


Reel Me In

by imafriendlydalek, orbingarrow



Series: Lobsters. [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Banter, Fishing, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship Is The Best Ship, Lobsterboat AU, M/M, bros being bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:32:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don't know anything about fishing or lobsters?  No worries.  Tony doesn't either.</p><p>What he does know is that the captain of the good ship Freedom is too hot for Maine, the captain's best friends are the best kind of trouble, and that any town with a watering hole called The Bearded Clam is worth a second look.</p><p>(Bucky has a hook, Rhodey's got game, and Tony's 2,300 miles from his happy ending.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is no explanation for this, except imafriendlydalek saw a fishing boat called Freedom and texted orbingarrow that it was probably Steve's boat, and then this happened.
> 
> Neither of us has ANY experience with lobster fishing, or really fishing at all, so this is cobbled together from what we could find online. Apologies for inaccuracies - we're landlubbers through and through!

A soft orange glow was starting to creep over the horizon, a hint of fog rising from the dark waters of the harbor. The waves lapped lazily at the hull of the boat, and Steve wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he looped the last of the ropes. It was going to be a hot day.

He’d just finished lining up the traps on deck when Sam and Bucky stepped on board, Sam pressing a cup of iced coffee into Steve’s hands. Bucky bumped against Steve’s shoulder playfully as he took up his spot at the wheel while Sam untied the mooring lines. They barely spoke as they worked; there was no need for words. They’d developed a routine over the years, each fully aware of where they had to be and where the others would be as they moved around the small boat.

The familiar chugging of the diesel engine cut through the silence of the morning, and Steve went to take up his favorite spot along the starboard railing as the _Freedom_ made her way slowly out of the harbor.

***

On the other side of the country, James Rhodes watched as his friend flashed a smile at the man near the jukebox. Rhodey wasn’t exactly thrilled they’d ended up in a honky tonk bar in the first place, but Tony’d driven, and once they were on the highway he’d just kept driving until he found somewhere appropriately backwater and off-the-beaten-track where Tony wouldn’t get recognized and they could just hang out. 

“Uh-uh,” Rhodey said, snapping his fingers to get Tony’s attention. “No. This is not about you getting laid, this is about a boys’ night out. Didn’t you promise me a boys’ night out?”

“I didn’t specify which boys, Colonel Cock-Block, but fine,” Tony said. “M’all yours.”

“Good,” Rhodey said. “Because your car is the only ride I’ve got and I’m not trying to catch a cab at midnight out here in podunk, California. You want to ditch me for some random townie, you do it somewhere with decent public transportation.”

Tony raised his beer in what was probably supposed to be a salute, but because Tony was three or four in, he ended up spilling it down his front, right over his crotch.

“Man, you look like you pissed your pants,” Rhodey laughs. “Hold on. I need a picture for posterity.”

Tony flipped Rhodey off and rolled his eyes, and then seemed a lot more interested in the pool game at hand. Probably because the table covered his shame.

Tony ended up winning the next two games. Even drunk, Tony could calculate the damn angles like some kind of billiards prodigy.

“You might as well give up now,” Tony taunted. “You’re never gonna beat me at math balls.”

“It’s called pool, Tony. Show some respect,” Rhodey complained. “And here. Finish off my beer. No way I’m letting you drive us anywhere now.”

Rhodey handed Tony what was left of the beer he’d been sipping on for most of the evening and surveyed the table.

“Hey, you know how every year I choose something awesome to do for my birthday and every year you hire strippers and ruin it?”

“I recall that, yes. Though when you say ‘ruin’ I hear ‘make awesome’. I’m just saying...”

“Right,” Rhodey continued. “How about this. I’ve only got the eight ball left. I sink this shot, you swear on your life that this year I get to plan my own birthday and you will follow my plan without complaint.”

“And what if you lose?” Tony asked.

“We can spend my birthday in Vegas,” Rhodey offered dryly.

Which was a big damn deal since Rhodey had very specifically told Tony after the last Vegas nightmare that he was never going back. Not for Celine Dion tickets. Not for a hotel room as big as a castle. Not for a new F-22.

He wouldn’t make a bet like that, though, if he weren’t exceedingly confident it would work out in his favor. For most people, the shot might seem tough to make, but Rhodey had spent enough time honing his skills in military rec rooms (never mind that he’d learned a few things about angles and trajectories at MIT and, you know, working his way up the ranks of the Air Force) to know he could pull it off.

Tony, on the other hand, was too far in his cups and too busy ogling Jukebox Dude to notice.

Rhodey leaned casually against the edge of the table, looped the cue stick behind his back and nudged the cue ball just hard enough for it to ricochet off the opposite side of the table, roll past the remaining balls and finally tap the eight ball into the far pocket.

“How you like them apples!” Rhodey pumped the air victoriously with his free hand.

“No fair,” Tony whined, “you’re not allowed to out-physics me. I have a reputation to uphold!” He pushed himself away from the pool table in an attempt to hang up his cue stick but lost his balance, wobbling for a few seconds before Rhodey stepped over to catch him.

“Uphold yourself first, reputation later. Come on, Wunderkind, time for a Wunder-nap.” He pulled Tony’s arm around his shoulder and wrapped his own arm around Tony’s waist. “So long, barkeep!” he called as he steered a protesting Tony out of the bar and into the cool night air.

He was actually a little surprised to find Tony’s Tesla still standing, unharmed, in the parking lot. It didn’t seem like a high-crime kind of area, but cars with six-figure sticker prices left unattended had a way of bringing out opportunists.

Once Tony was settled in the passenger seat, now whining about the basket of wings he had still been eating (they hadn’t ordered any wings), Rhodey steered them toward the nearest hotel that didn’t look like it was run by someone named Bates. Tony was back to an acceptable level of buzzed by then, and Rhodey decided that he was entitled to something from the minibar as payment for dragging Tony’s ass out of that bar.

“Alright, Honeybadger, lay it on me.” Tony was tucked upon the one bed in a nest of pillows, cuddling a bottle of beer with one hand and the fleece comforter with the other. He was stroking it as if it were a cat. “You won the bet fair and square. I mean, I could argue that I wasn’t in a state to be making wagers, but let’s face it, I’ve had worse. So, let’s hear it. Where’re we going for your birthday? Ibiza? St. Tropez? Cabo? Oahu? Cannes? Acapulco? Rio? Aspen?”

He sounded increasingly exasperated with every suggestion, as if those were the worst possible ideas he could imagine.

Rhodey rolled his eyes and sighed into his whiskey. His gaze drifted over to the map of the US that hung on the wall opposite their beds, and his grin widened. “Here,” he said as he got up, crossed the room, and plopped his finger down. “We’re going here.”

Tony stared at him, mouth agape, and hurled a pillow in his direction.

It missed.

***

“I’m not suggesting we start whorin’ ourselves out for cash,” Bucky complained. “I’m saying it’s the off season, we’ve got shit all to do with ourselves, and people pay good money for charters this time of year. Money we could put to good use.”

Sam looked between Steve and Bucky and shoved another bite of his crab slider into his mouth. They’d been at this for a couple of days now. Bickering like they’d been married for fifty years. And he knew what was coming next.

Bucky and Steve both turned to Sam.

“Oh no,” Sam said. “I’m not here to take sides. You promised me crab and beer. I’ve got my crab, I’ve got my beer.”

Steve looked slightly repentant. Bucky flipped him off with his hook. Or at least tilted the hook in a way Sam knew was meant to be a middle finger.

“All class, Barnes,” Sam laughed. “Just for that I’m siding with Steve.”

“Really?” Steve asked.

And, well, here’s the thing. Sam hadn’t wanted to take sides - that could get messy in an argument between his boyfriend and his best friend - but the more he’d thought about it, the more he knew he really ought to pipe in. At least give his opinion since he was part of this crew too.

“No,” Sam said. “Not really. If you want my honest opinion, I think Bucky’s on to something. And I’m not just saying that because he’s Bucky. I’m bored. We’ve got some spare time, and Maria said she’d had more charter requests than she knows what to do with. We could take one or two off her hands. We’ve got the room.”

The _Freedom_ was big for a lobster boat. They’d taken what they could get, though, and she’d been good to them so far. Sailed them through every storm.

“And hey... I’m never going to turn down extra cash. Not all of us can go live out their inner Bob Ross when things get tight.”

Bucky smiled victoriously and sidled over to run his hand down Sam’s back. “See?” he said. “Sam’s on board. What d’ya say, Captain?”

***

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” Tony frowned and pulled off his sunglasses to better glare at Rhodey.

That traitorous bastard had actually gone through with his threats and dragged Tony all the way up to the ass of the country - Nowheresville, Maine, to be precise.

There was a light breeze blowing in from the harbor, seagulls cawing as they circled overhead, and warm sunshine.

It was like stepping into a postcard. Tony hated it.

And then he caught sight of the bar next to the B&B that Rhodey had booked them into. The clapboard siding looked like it had weathered one too many nor’easters and the sign hanging precariously above the door could definitely use a fresh coat of paint. It screamed “townie watering hole”, and Tony felt an irresistible urge to go in and check it out.

Mostly because of the name.

“Really?” Rhodey asked skeptically. “It’s, like, three in the afternoon.” He checked his watch. “Okay, four-fifteen, but still…”

“Yeah, but I’ve been up since 7 AM Pacific time since you insisted we had to leave early, so that’s like after five for my internal clock.”

“You don’t have an internal clock, Tony. Your circadian rhythm went on strike in 1986 and hasn’t been seen ever since.”

Tony waved his hand in Rhodey’s direction. “Shush, you. Come on, best way to get to know the lay of the land. Thought that was what you wanted - an authentic New England getaway slash fishing adventure. What better place to start than here?”

He pointed up at the sign and grinned.

Rhodey sighed but followed him into The Bearded Clam nevertheless.

***

Dating Sam was about the best decision Bucky’d ever made. Right up there with befriending some bully-busting short stack he’d met in a back alley when he was seven. 

No one could pick a crab clean like Sam could. And maybe other men didn’t find that sexy like Bucky did, but that was their loss. Bucky had found a boyfriend who believed as strongly as he did in ‘waste not, want not’ and he was keeping him. Between the two of them, they could stretch a couple of crabs into a feast and spend the rest of their money on more important things. Like beer.

Which is why they’d walked into the bar with less than twenty bucks between them and they were half smashed before five.

“When’s Steve coming?” Sam asked, then leaned forward to see if he could catch a glimpse of the clock on the wall, half hidden by nets and antique buoys.

“Dunno,” Bucky said. “Didn’t ask. He’ll be here. Said he had to take care of some stuff at the dock. Why are you worried about it?”

“Saw him use his inhaler earlier.”

Bucky waved the concern away. “Happens when he decides that sanding the hull would be a good idea. I keep telling him to let me do it, but you know how he is…” Bucky looked down at his hand - well, hook - and frowned. Steve had always been too stubborn for his own good, had always put what he thought was best for others before his own well-being. And since he’d brought back whatever the hell it was from Afghanistan, his lungs gave him trouble some days. It was a part of their lives now. “He’ll be better tomorrow when we’re out on the water. I don’t get worried till I hear him wheezin’.”

“You’re the expert,” Sam conceded. 

“Damn straight. Now more drinking, less thinking!” Bucky demanded with a fist to the bar. “Barkeep! Keep ‘em comin’.”

Natasha, the part-time barkeeper, full-time bar owner, lifted an eyebrow.

“Please?” Bucky added.

“You’re lucky I like your boyfriend, Barnes,” Natasha said as she took their empty glasses. “Now move your asses over. We’ve got company and they look like they’ve got money.”

They’d left a spare stool for Steve but with the place filling up, Nat was right. There was no reason to leave it open. They shifted over and that left two stools together, which the newcomers promptly took.

***

It took a second for Rhodey’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the bar, which was apparently all the time Tony had needed to scout out two spots along the counter and start trying to chat up the bartender, who looked less than amused by his antics.

“I’ll take two of whatever’s local and on tap,” he said, sliding a twenty across the bar.

Rhodey settled on the open stool just as the man to Tony’s left - nice to see there was at least one other black dude in Maine, which seemed to be the whitest state in the union from what he could tell so far - leaned over and stage-whispered “Word of advice - steer clear of the seasonal brew. Tastes like bilgewater. Go with the lager.”

Tony smiled his thanks. “What he said,” he told the bartender, who nodded and pulled out two glasses. 

“Actually,” Tony said, “make it three.”

“Thanks man,” the beer advisor said, offering Tony his hand. “I’m Sam, and this is Bucky.” He indicated towards the guy sitting beside him.

“Bucky?” Tony asked with a laugh. “Alright man, you deserve a beer just for having to go through life with a name like that. Barkeep!”

She nodded with a slight smile and pulled out a fourth glass.

“Thanks. It’s James, actually, but no one calls me that except my ma,” Bucky replied. His voice was low, and the Brooklyn was unmistakable in his drawl.

“Funny, I know exactly how that goes,” Rhodey said, leaning around Tony to offer their new friends a handshake. “I’m also James, but just about everyone calls me Rhodey thanks to this guy.” He prodded Tony with his elbow.

Three lagers a piece and one shared just-to-see-if-it’s-really-that-bad-oh-yes-it-is bilgewater seasonal ale later, they’ve learned that their new friends work as lobstermen, having moved up to Maine after leaving the armed forces - Army for Bucky and some unseen third party called Steve, Air Force for Sam - to “get away from the noise”. Rhodey could certainly identify with that. Tony’d rolled his eyes when they started swapping military stories and turned his attention back to hitting on the bartender.

He specifically did _not_ mention what he did for a living, Rhodey noticed, and made a mental note not to bring it up either.

“Bad idea, Tony,” Sam warned under his breath.

“Yeah, greater men than you have tried and failed,” Bucky added. “It’s like the Russian front. Fitting, actually, cuz Nat is Russian.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and walked into the back. Rhodey couldn’t help but enjoy watching a woman flat turn down Tony Stark. He was going to ride this night for as long as he could.

“And even if she wasn’t, she’s dating that tough guy over there,” Sam added, with a point toward the far end of the bar.

Tony and Rhodey both looked at the man wiping down the counter. He had muscular arms and an expression like life had done him wrong somehow.

“Oh, you should meet him,” Bucky said. His words were slurred. This was apparently what passed for a good idea to a drunk person. “Clint! Come down here and meet the fellas flirting with your girl!” 

“Man, was that necessary?” Rhodey complained.

“Tattle,” Tony hissed. “No more drinks for you.”

Clint walked toward them, eyeing them unhappily. He’d picked up a mug on his way and turned it in his hand like he was going to use it as a weapon.

“Do we have a problem here?” Clint asked, his voice low and gruff.

“We’re just here for the halibut,” Tony said with a crooked grin. 

Rhodey tensed. Maybe not the time for Tony’s particular sense of humor. 

“We’re good,” Rhodey confirmed.

Everything about this guy screamed that he was the sort of person who was well-acquainted with beating people in back alleys. Natasha walked back in from the back to place some appetizers in front of them and Clint wrapped an arm around her and gave Rhodey and Tony a possessive look.

“Hi, honey,” Clint said.

Natasha glared at Clint and smacked him on the shoulder.

“I’m trying to earn a good tip here. You want to take your ass back over to your section or do you want me to walk you there?”

Clint’s whole face changed from pissed-off-boyfriend to sulky in an instant.

“Awwww... Nat, no. We had them going,” Clint complained.

“We so did,” Bucky said victoriously. “Your faces. God, I can’t believe you ruined it, spoil sport!”

Sam started laughing. “Sorry, guys. It’s just too good to pass up when we get the chance. Clint-- this is Tony and Rhodey. Guys, this is Clint. Nicest guy you’ll ever meet.”

And he was, turned out. Clint’s smile changed everything about his face. And once he shoved out his hand to shake Rhodey’s there wasn’t an intimidating thing about him.

“Sorry about that,” Clint said without sounding sorry at all. “It’s a thing we do. Consider yourselves initiated. Your next drink’s on me.”

“I can’t take these assholes anywhere,” Natasha said. “Not without Steve to keep them in line.”

Natasha waved at someone who just walked in the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Bucky said. “Steve!”

“Devil,” Natasha said with a derisive snort. “More like your guardian angel, Buckingham Palace.”

Rhodey could practically see the hearts in Tony’s eyes as she said it.

Until a tall, muscular blond showed up behind Bucky with a smile that could melt glaciers and a sparkle in his eye that somehow indicated that he both stopped to help old ladies across the street but was also up to something mischievous. 

Heck, even Rhodey couldn’t help but find the guy attractive. And he wasn’t even into guys. Tony, on the other hand, well let’s just say Tony’s attention had thoroughly abandoned Natasha.

“Thanks for saving me a seat, guys…” the guy who had to be Steve said sarcastically to Bucky and Sam.

“What’re friends for?” Bucky drawled.

“Uh, nothing, if you guys are anything to go by.”

“We’re the seat-stealers,” Tony interjected, his gaze still fixed on Steve as if he was trying to eat him up through his eyeballs. “Sorry about that. I’m Tony, by the way, and this is Rhodey. Here, let me make it up to you.”

Tony indicated towards Natasha for another drink, who pulled out a soda glass and slid a ginger ale across the bar without a word a few seconds later.

“Really?” Tony asked, somewhat bewildered, as Steve accepted the soda with an appreciative smile. “Think I can afford beer for one more, even with those two drinking like fish.” He waved his hand towards Bucky and Sam, who nodded their heads in thanks. “Oh crap,” Tony continued, turning his attention towards Steve again, “you’re not one of those religious zealot teetotalling types, are you?”

Steve replied with a quiet laugh. “No, definitely not. Just allergic to hops, so beer’s out for me.”

Rhodey watched in amusement as Tony blinked at Steve. “Allergic to hops? That’s a thing?”

Steve shrugged. “Sure. People are allergic to all sorts of things.”

“If by “people” you mean Steve,” Bucky muttered into his almost-empty beer.

“So how does that work exactly?” Tony asked. “You’re in a bar so you aren’t like the bubble boy of booze or anything.”

“He wants to know what’s going to happen if he kisses you,” Bucky observed.

Which made Rhodey cackle. “He’s got your number, Tones.”

“I just call it like I see it,” Bucky said. “A guy walks into this bar, if he’s straight he’s making a beeline to Nat and if he’s gay...”

Bucky gestured to Steve. Steve rolled his eyes and elbowed his friend.

“You think you could make me sound a little less like a piece of meat?” Steve suggested.

“He’s not wrong,” Sam said.

“You’re not going to get any argument from me,” Tony said, raising his hands to feign innocence. “Rhodey, give Steve your seat.”

“What? Hell no,” Rhodey said. Then realized just how rude that sounded and looked at Steve apologetically. “No offense to you. Tony just does this a lot. Always trying to give away my seat. Give up your own seat.”

“That would be counterproductive since I want him sitting next to me. See how that works? Math.”

“I’ll math you,” Rhodey complained.

They’d all had enough beer that this conversation made perfect sense to them, except maybe Steve, who was looking amused and unfairly put together.

“Fine,” Rhodey said. “Anyone up for a game of darts?”

“I am!” Clint called from the other end of the bar, like he had bat hearing or sonar or something. “I’ll play darts.”

Half the bar groaned.

“Don’t put any money on it,” Steve warned him. “You seem like a nice guy. I’d hate to see you lose your shirt.”

“Nah. I’m great at darts,” Rhodey said. “Best at MIT.”

And that’s the story of how Rhodey lost his pants, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is but the first chapter! Stick around for more banter, for unabashed flirting between Steve and Tony, for Steve being a little shit, for Tony being an engine whisperer, for bros being bros and for more LOBSTERS! 
> 
> We are [orbingarrow](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com/) and [imafriendlydalek](http://imafriendlydalek.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr - come say hi!
> 
> Thanks for kudos and comments - they feed our souls!


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was already at the docks when Sam and Bucky arrived the next morning, which was pretty much status quo since he was an incessant morning person and Sam and Bucky definitely were _not_. They were a bit later than usual today, though, especially for a day they were taking out a charter, when things really had to be ship-shape (four years into life as lobstermen, Bucky still laughed whenever Sam made that joke. God, he loved that dork). 

They could hardly be blamed, though. Wasn’t everyday an unsuspecting tourist came along and spent the evening buying them round of beers after round of beers. Would be silly to pass up an offer like that, really.

Steve’s displeasure at their tardiness was evident as they climbed aboard, though the iced coffee and brown paper bag from the deli that Sam pressed into his hands wordlessly helped a little.

“Aw come on, Stevie,” Bucky whined as he started his daily inspection of the engine, “turn that frown upside down. Think of it this way - Tony picked up our tab last night, so we were able to take those twenty bucks that _would_ have been our bar tab and buy us each a breakfast sandwich.”

Steve’s face lit up at that for a split second, though he fought it back down quickly. “Alright, fine,” he relented as he reached into the bag and pulled out a sesame bagel with eggs and bacon. Sam could have sworn he heard Steve make a noise that sounded a hell of a lot like “mmmnomnom” as Steve took a gigantic bite. 

“Just this once, I forgive you,” Steve mumbled around his mouthful.

“Geez Rogers, say it, don’t spray it,” Bucky teased. He pulled the tricorn hat he always wore for charter trips out from under the steering wheel and tugged it over his hair with a smirk.

Steve flipped him off as he shoved a giant piece of bagel into his mouth. How that man managed to eat half a bagel in two bites and still keep up a physique like his would likely always be a mystery to Sam. Unfair is what it was, Sam thought as he pulled on his waterproof overalls - “the sexy pants”, as Bucky called them, though they were definitely anything but.

He was bent down to adjust his boots when a voice spoke behind him.

“They said there’d be a nice view on this trip, but damn, they really undersold it.”

Sam peered around his bright orange pants to see Tony and Rhodey, the guys from the bar, standing on the dock. Tony grinned and pulled his sunglasses down halfway, winking theatrically at Sam.

“Oy, back off,” Bucky growled playfully. “Mine.”

Sam straightened and looked the two of them over. Rhodey was wearing cargo pants and a polo shirt, a sweatshirt tucked under his elbow. Just like their charter passengers were instructed to dress.

Tony, on the other hand, looked like he’d tried for casual and gotten distracted - he wore a dark red button-down and black slacks with sneakers that looked like they cost about as much as that new boat engine Bucky kept going on about.

They both still looked slightly the worse for wear from the previous night.

“You guys are our charter?” Steve asked, climbing over the gear he’d been sorting in order to greet them.

Rhodey nodded. “Maria sent us down here.” He gestured towards the office building at the end of the docks. “Took us a bit to find your boat. Don’t -” he snarled in warning towards Tony, but it was too late - he was already humming the first few bars of “I’ve Been Looking For Freedom.”

Rhodey elbowed him in the ribs, which shut Tony up fairly effectively, as he handed Sam a slip of paper. “She said to give you this.”

Sam looked over the paperwork quickly and nodded to Steve, who tilted his head but returned the nod.

“Welcome aboard the Freedom, gentlemen,” Steve said, extending a hand towards Rhodey to help him climb onto the boat.

Sam blinked at the paper Rhodey had handed him. “Tony… Stark? But not _the_ Tony Stark, or?”

Tony was halfway aboard, one leg still on the dock and balancing precariously over the railing, but that didn’t keep him from flashing Sam a broad smile - the same smile Sam had seen on TV and in the papers - and shrugging. Sam’d missed it in the darkness of The Bearded Clam, but it was unmistakable in the light of day. 

“Guilty as charged.”

“Shit,” Sam heard Bucky mumble from his spot at the helm. “And here I’d felt bad about drinking up such a tab.”

***

“Goddddddd, does he ever stop?” Tony groaned, waving a hand lazily in Steve’s direction as he tugged his baseball cap lower over his eyes to block more of the sun.

Bucky snorted from his spot at the helm. “Trust me, this is way better than pensive, quiet Steve,” he called back over the roar of the engine.

Steve laughed to himself as he continued singing while he went about pulling up lobster pots. They didn’t have many traps in the water this time of year, but the ones that were out still needed to be checked every few days. “Way hay and up she rises, way hay and up she rises,” Steve crooned as he heaved another trap over the boat’s railing.

Sam tossed a chunk of mackerel at him, but Steve just chuckled and kept singing.

Wasn’t his fault everyone else had made the choice to pound back beers like they’d been marooned on a desert island for weeks the night before. Yeah, sure, Steve had the natural deterrent from making that choice on account of wanting to avoid anaphylaxis, but he’d also made the conscious decision not to imbibe any other alcoholic drinks - he wasn’t one to pass up a nice whisky, to be sure, but he rarely drank during the week, and never before a charter trip. He hated charters enough as it was - the added responsibility, the expectation to provide entertainment if the fish weren’t biting, the close quarters from having so many people on the boat - he certainly didn’t need to add a pounding headache to the mix.

This charter felt different, though, he had to admit to himself as Rhodey watched him and Sam sort the traps, asking Sam interested questions every so often, and Tony slumped over the railing with a look on his face that was probably meant to convey disdain for being there but actually oozed amusement.

“Put him in the longboat till he’s sober,” Steve continued, shooting Tony an impish grin when he squalled in protest.

Steve was usually on his best behavior during charters, going out of his way to explain things to their passengers, acting cordially without being overly friend-like. But usually their charters didn’t turn out to be the guys who had footed their bar tab the night before, and considering how unabashedly Tony had been hitting on Steve all evening, Steve figured he was allowed to have some fun with these two.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been enjoying the attention, after all. The LGBT community in this town was pretty much him, Sam and Bucky and that one lesbian couple, after all. ‘BYOB,’ Bucky called it, where he said the B stood for ‘boyfriend’ and Sam said it stood for ‘Bucky.’ Either way, not much going on in that department for Steve.

He didn’t usually pay much heed to the occasional friendly glance he got from tourists, but there was something different about Tony. He’d picked up on it yesterday already - the confident way Tony owned any space he occupied, his easy manner and biting sense of humor, and he certainly wasn’t sore on the eyes. Steve was intrigued. The revelation that Tony was in fact one of the most famous - and richest - bachelors in the country explained quite a bit, but didn’t really change Steve’s opinion of the man. He’d given up judging people by external factors long ago.

“Stevie! I’m gonna put YOU in the longboat in a minute!” Bucky warned, shaking his hook hand in Steve’s direction.

“We don’t even have a longboat,” Steve objected but decided he’d sung enough that morning.

They soon reached the fishing grounds, where he and Sam explained the gear to Rhodey and Tony and showed them how to use it. Rhodey seemed genuinely interested in learning how to fish, Tony not so much.

But Tony did seem interested in Steve. Every bit as interested as he’d appeared the night before.

“Sooooo,” Tony drawled out, leaning against the boat rail with the sort of confidence usually reserved for the person who owned the boat. “Lobsters. Really?”

Steve laughed. “Lobsters. Really.”

“You’re hot, you know that right?” Tony asked. “Cities like New York and LA were meant for people who look like you.”

“Thanks?” Steve asked. He met Tony’s eyes with an amused smile. “Though I’m sure you say that to all the guys.”

“Only the hot ones,” Tony said. “And in my defense it’s never started out with ‘So. Lobsters.’ This is entirely new for me. You’re my first.”

Tony managed to encode that statement with so much implied sex, Steve felt his cheeks warm and it had been a long damn time since he was a blushing virgin.

“Okay then,” Steve said. “Want to fuck?”

He was being a shit. It wasn’t really a proposition. It was mostly a reaction to Tony’s bravado-fueled flirting and the gamble paid off when Tony straight up gasped. If he had pearls he might have clutched them. Steve laughed and gave Tony a clap on the shoulder.

“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” Steve warned with a wink, and then turned back to his work.

Rhodey and Sam heard everything and they cackled in the background. 

“Aw, man,” Rhodey wheezed through his laughter. “You should see your face, Tones. He got you good. I need to buy that man a hops-free beer.”

“That man is a menace,” Tony declared. “And hops-free beer would just be yeasty barley water, which is just…” He grimaced and convulsed like a hairballing cat.

Steve smiled to himself. Yes, charters were a pain. Maybe this one wasn’t quite so bad.

***

Bucky watched amusedly as his best friend threw all that unabashed flirting right back at Tony Stark. It was nice to see Steve like this - an actual, genuine smile on his face. It had happened far too seldom since they’d gotten out of the military. While Bucky had gone home with some literal scarring, Steve’s baggage was of a decidedly more psychological nature. He carried it close to his heart, reluctant to share it even though they all knew that a sorrow shared was a sorrow halved. Heck, Bucky’s nana had even had that damn proverb embroidered on one of her beloved throw pillows.

For today, though, those sorrows seemed to have taken a back seat, and Bucky smiled as he kicked the boat into a higher gear. They were headed out to the shoal, where the fish liked to converge this time of year, and good ol’ Freedom was going to have to haul ass if they wanted to get a few good hours of fishing in.

He glanced behind him, where Sam had busted out the electric grill and was steaming up some lobsters and corn for lunch, and smiled to himself.

It was a good day.

Of course, that was when the radio crackled.

“This is Hoppin’ Tuna, anyone in range?” a staticy voice asked, concern clearly audible.

“Hey Bill, this is Barnes on the Freedom,” Bucky responded. “What’s your situation?”

“Shit, Buck, good to hear ya. We’re floatin’. Engine’s dead.”

Bucky frowned. Getting stuck in the middle of the ocean was every fisherman’s biggest fear. But of course they were all out to help each other - these guys would all do the same for them if they were in that situation - so he adjusted course. “On our way,” he confirmed before turning to Steve and the others.

“Hey guys, slight change of plans. There’s a boat in trouble a few miles out, so we’re gonna take a slight detour. Sorry,” he added for their passengers, “fishermen’s code.”

Tony waved his hand and Rhodey shrugged. “No worries,” Rhodey said. “No man left behind, after all.”

“And nothing comes before the Bro Code,” Tony added as he took a sip of the iced tea Sam had passed around.

Steve looked concerned as he crossed the deck towards the helm. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly when he was next to Bucky.

Bucky explained what Bill had told him, Steve nodding in acknowledgement. It was dangerous to go this far off-shore alone, and it was well known that the Hoppin’ Tuna was getting on in years and hadn’t been the most reliable boat lately. But Bill had been going through some rough times, and desperation made you do things that weren’t always advisable. “Sam and I can take a look at it. Hopefully we can get him going again.”

They reached the other boat soon after. Bill waved them over and smiled gratefully as Bucky pulled up alongside the broken-down boat. “You boys sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

“I should hope so,” Steve said as he and Sam climbed aboard, “cuz my eyes’re sore just lookin’ at you.” It was standard banter between fishermen, said sarcastically as they greeted each other with a handshake-shoulder-clasp. Bill indicated towards where the engine was, Sam already climbing down into the space.

Meanwhile, Bucky took over duties as grill master, adding an extra ear of corn for Bill to the pot before pulling out the gorgeously red lobsters. “Alright, grub time.”

Rhodey came over and helped him dish out lunch, but Tony stayed in his perch along the side of the boat, his neck craned so he could look over into the other boat.

It took about ten minutes for his patience and self-restraint to wear out. Rhodey and Bucky exchanged a knowing glance as Tony hopped to his feet when the Hoppin’ Tuna’s engine briefly gurgled but died a sputtering death once again.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” Tony asked Bill, already pushing up his sleeves.

“You know how to handle a boat engine?” Bill asked skeptically as he looked Tony over.

Tony let out a huff and climbed over to the other boat rather ungracefully. “I’m like the horse whisperer of engines. The engine whisperer. The diesel doctor. Tamer of machinery. Necromancer of malfunctioning motors. Tony Stark,” he said with a flashy grin as he offered the fisherman a handshake. 

“Tony Sta-” Bill started incredulously, but Tony waved a hand to cut him off. 

“Yep, that one.” He sauntered across the deck to where Steve and Sam were converged around the engine. 

Bucky watched as the trio exchanged a few words about the state of the engine, then Sam and Steve climbed out of the engine space to make room for Tony, who hopped down into the water-oil-sludge without batting an eye and got to work. He’d call for Steve to hand him a different tool every so often, entendres rife in his instructions (“I need a screw, Rogers. A nice long one. Yeah, give it to me.”). Steve took it with a smile, though Bill looked slightly uncomfortable. Like most people Bucky had encountered in the fishing profession, gay was okay but please not here.

Well, Bill would just have to deal with it if he wanted his boat fixed.

And true to his word, Tony had the engine sputtering happily not too long after that.

***

Alright, Steve was willing to admit it - he was impressed. He’d pegged Tony for one of those typical charter passengers at first, the kind who just want an adventure without any of the work, who want to catch a giant tuna or shark without getting their hands dirty and certainly not their clothing.

But there Tony stood, up to his knees in engine sludge with a goofy, triumphant grin on his face, having just breathed life back into Bill’s old engine. Actually, the engine sounded better now than it ever had.

And Tony had pulled it off in less time than it took to steam a lobster while still flirting entirely shamelessly with Steve.

Yeah, Tony was an okay guy, Steve decided. Certainly worth giving a chance.

***

Sam was glad to see Bill relax the longer Tony and Steve spent onboard, because Sam liked the guy. Liked most of the fishermen he saw around town. And hated to think some playful banter between two dudes would be enough to have Bill writing them all off.

Though it probably helped that Tony really had turned out to be an engine whisperer. 

When the engine was fixed they amicably parted ways and it was finally time for food.

“That was some impressive mechanic work,” Bucky said as they were finishing up what was left on their plates. “I’ve got a button that won’t work on my phone anymore. You any good with those?” 

Tony smirked. “Let me see it.”

“You aren’t gonna like it,” Sam warned. “I keep trying to get him to upgrade.”

“I’m not wasting a perfectly good phone,” Bucky complained. “And touch screens aren’t exactly compatible with hooks.” 

Bucky took his phone out of his pocket and thunked it down on the table. It was a bulky flip phone, entombed in a waterproof phone case that had definitely seen better days. And the “button that won’t work” was the on button for the screen. If Bucky wanted to make a call he had to push the memorized numbers and hope for the best. Sam got a lot of pleasure out of the look of horror on Tony’s face.

“This is obscene,” Tony declared. “I’d suggest we bury it at sea but the merpeople would chuck it right back up to land. Probably sink us, too.”

“S’bad luck to piss off the merpeople,” Steve agreed solemnly. “Every sailor knows that.”

“I knew it!” Tony declared with a grin aimed toward his best friend. “I knew they were real. See, Rhodey? Captain Rogers confirmed it.”

“Please do not encourage him on this,” Rhodey said, in a long-suffering tone. “You do not want to know the number of drunken hours I’ve wasted listening to him wax poetic about sea folk.”

“I kind of do,” Sam said.

“It was a phase,” Tony said. “Which was no longer a phase until right now, when it moved into phase two. You wanted me to be excited about the ocean. I’m excited. Let’s find us some mermaids.”

Rhodey groaned and the rest of the crew laughed. Sam couldn’t help but think it was weird, finding people who could fit in with them like this. He, Steve and Bucky had such a collectively odd sense of humor. Apart from Clint and Natasha, they’d never really met anyone who slotted in so quickly.

And it majorly sucked that in a day they’d be gone.

Steve got up and started to gather the plates to clear up some space on deck and Sam hopped up to help him. When they were out of hearing distance, Sam leaned in.

“It’s a shame we got detoured. Mechanic work wasn’t exactly what they signed up for.”

He left it at that, since he wasn’t sure about Steve’s thoughts on a second charter in two days and Sam didn’t want to push.

Steve glanced back at where Bucky was regaling Rhodey and Tony with some absolutely bullshit sea tale about the time they spotted some honest-to-god mermaids, or what could have passed for them. (They’d been harbor seals, but who was counting?) The men were enthralled. 

“We could invite them out again tomorrow,” Steve suggested.

“It’s only fair,” Sam agreed. “Just don’t keep Tony up too late. He seems like the type who’ll be hard to kick out of bed in the morning if he hasn’t gotten enough sleep.”

Steve laughed and gave Sam a one-handed shove.

“It’s that obvious?” Steve asked.

“The only thing that’s not obvious is who wants it more.”

“We do,” Bucky butted in, calling from the other side of the boat. How the hell had he heard them from all the way over there? “Then maybe Steve won’t mope so much. Put a spring in his step, Stark.”

“What he said,” Sam agreed.

Tony was grinning into his lemonade, which he somehow managed to drink so lasciviously that even Sam felt himself blush. Poor Steve looked like a boiled lobster.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tony said with a wink.

“Hey look, tuna!” Steve blurted, obviously trying to change the subject.

There were, in fact, no tuna to be seen, but there were enough other fish in the area to make the day worthwhile for their charter passengers after all. They headed home in the early evening with their holding tanks full, and Rhodey had even almost landed a thresher shark. Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, of course, and certainly not in commercial fishing, but for tourists it was all about the story and the experience, and almost getting thrashed in the face by a shark makes for one hell of a story. For tourists. Sam would very much prefer not to be on the receiving end of a thresher’s tail. Not his idea of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, THANK YOU all so very very much for the resounding response to the first chapter! We are flattered and honored and a little bit surprised that this silly idea of ours seems to appeal to so many of you. But I guess in the days of CW ANNNNNNGGGGGGST we all need a little distraction ;-)
> 
> Anywho, thanks again for all your comments and kudos. Please continue to feed our egos. We loves it, Precious!
> 
> Stay tuned for the next bit, which features a barbecue, corncob Jenga, Bucky being a shit, Steve being a shit, Sam and Rhodey being awesome, and maybe some kissing...


	3. Chapter 3

Tony and Rhodey were great fun, Bucky decided as he listened to Rhodey telling a likely rather embellished story from his and Tony’s days at MIT, and resolved to make it his mission to get Steve laid. It was obvious enough - Tony wanted it, Steve wanted it, he just needed a nudge in the right direction sometimes. And isn’t that what best friends are for?

Steve had already offered that they could all head out again the next day, a bonus charter trip as a thank-you to Tony for helping Bill and as an apology for the shortened day of fishing. Bucky was certain that if anyone had suggested another day of fishing to Tony that morning, he would have flipped them off and told them rather colorfully where they could shove a swordfish. 

Tony looked a lot more amicable to the idea now. In fact, he’d agreed to the idea even faster than Rhodey, though Bucky suspected it had less to do with the prospect of landing a shark and more with hanging out with them - and flirting with Steve.

Which was why Bucky had decided to up the ante and invited them back to the house he, Sam and Steve shared to grill up the fish they’d caught. “It ain’t much, our place,” he’d explained with a shrug, “but the beer is cold and the grill is hot.”

Steve had shot him a glare, but Bucky knew him better than to take it seriously, and he had definitely caught a hint of a smile on Steve’s face when Tony and Rhodey accepted the invitation.

Which was how they’d all ended up on the back deck, gathered around the grill and a cooler full of beer (whiskey & soda for Steve, of course).

Sam had declared himself grillmaster, which was fine with Bucky. Rhodey had joined him at the fire, and that was fine, too. Bucky never worried about Sam making new friends. Sam would never cheat; Rhodey seemed like a nice guy. It was all good.

But it did leave Bucky as the third wheel, sitting between Steve and Tony, who couldn’t stop making bedroom eyes at each other.

“You two think you can make it through dinner or should I just go grab the lube now?” Bucky asked.

“Dunno, Buck. There’s a perfectly good stick of butter sitting right over there,” Steve said, nodding towards the table. “Don’t want you to have to waste a trip.”

Which made Bucky laugh-choke on his beer and Tony cackle. Steve gave Bucky a hard clap on the back.

“That’s what you get for being a shit,” Steve said. 

“Too bad you’re only that good with words when you’re being a punk,” Bucky said.

“What can I say? It’s a gift,” Steve replied drily.

“To mankind,” Tony added, lifting his bottle of beer in a mock toast.

Bucky gave them both a pretend glare, then stood up to join Rhodey and Sam at the grill. Steve and Tony were menaces. They deserved each other.

***

Steve could do this, he told himself. He and Tony had been flirting easily all day, after all. He could totally manage to turn this into more than just playful flirtation.

He drained his drink with a slight grimace. 

Okay, maybe this was going to be harder than he thought. It’d been a _long_ time since he’d felt as instantly attracted to someone as he did to Tony, and this was _Tony Stark_. It was a little overwhelming.

Tony must have caught on to Steve’s spiralling mental state, since he leaned over and nudged Steve with his shoulder. “Hey Captain,” he said quietly, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. Steve had to swallow at the sound of it. “How ‘bout a tour of your digs?”

Steve nodded, words failing him for the moment. He scrambled to his feet, wincing at his own awkwardness. He huffed out a deep breath and reminded himself that Tony was just like any other guy. It wasn’t even Tony’s celebrity that was throwing Steve off, he realized. There was just something about Tony that set him apart, that gave Steve an undeniable feeling that this would be more than just a hook-up. Which was terrifying in its own right, considering Tony lived in California and about as far away from Steve’s life as one could get. So would it be worth getting into something if it meant he could never have it again?

He’d just decided it wasn’t when Tony tugged him around with a hand on his shoulder, cupped the back of Steve’s head and looked up at him, the question for permission evident in his eyes, before he leaned up and pressed a kiss against Steve’s lips.

Steve couldn’t say for sure which of them the happy groan came from, not that it really mattered, because Steve’s hands came up instinctively to wrap around Tony’s waist and draw him in closer. He breathed in deeply, as if that would somehow get him closer to Tony, to that warm scent of salt air mixed with what was probably very expensive shampoo and a hint of engine grease.

“You’re not gonna go into anaphylactic shock or something from the beer I was drinking, are you?” Tony asked when they finally came up for air. 

How they’d ended up on Steve’s bed, Tony’s weight pressing him comfortably into the mattress, Steve wasn’t sure, though he was pretty glad they were there and not in Sam and Bucky’s room.

He shook his head. “Nah, ‘s not that bad,” he said as he leaned in for another kiss. 

Then another. Then ano--

Tony’s thigh buzzed and vibrated against Steve’s leg a half a second before the smooth voice of Marvin Gaye began singing Let’s Get it On.

Steve pulled back and arched an eyebrow. Definitely not the sort of ringtone you use for someone you aren’t sleeping with.

“Are you getting a booty call right now?” Steve asked.

“This ringtone was a lot funnier before it happened in your bed,” Tony tried. “Sorry. I’ve got to take it. I owe her for the last....”

Tony fished the phone out of his pocket and rolled off of Steve, letting the rest of that explanation trail off.

“You’re interrupting something important,” Tony greeted the mystery caller. “I’m in Maine. With Rhodey.”

Even as close as Steve was, he couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. Once or twice maybe he could make out that it was a woman, but whatever she was saying was lost.

“I’ll do it tomorrow. Wait, scratch that,” Tony said. “Day after tomorrow. I’ve got plans. Come onnnnnn, Pep. You’re killing me here. Is that what you want? Me, dead? You know that’d be bad for the stocks and expensive shoes don’t buy themselves.”

Her reply made Tony sit up. He ran a hand through his hair, which made it stick up in every direction. They hadn’t showered after the boat, and they probably should have. Not together, though. The phone call and Tony’s expression and the easy way he talked to Pep were cold water enough to cool whatever might have happened next.

“Fine. You’re right, that was rude,” Tony continued. “I don’t know what you expect, this is my vacation.”

Tony paused one more time and then ended the call with a terse goodbye.

“I have homework,” Tony sighed. “Paperwork. It has to be done tonight. No way around it.”

Steve nodded in acknowledgement. “I understand. Duty calls.” He tried and probably failed to hide a wince at his own choice of words. Smooth, Rogers, real smooth.

Yeah, okay, he was disappointed. But waiting one night certainly wasn’t going to kill him, and he had another day of fishing with Tony and Rhodey to look forward to anyway. Regardless of whatever this was that was (or wasn’t) happening with Tony, the two of them were great fun just to hang out with and Steve found he suddenly didn’t hate charters nearly as much as he usually did.

He watched as Tony stood up, brushed a hand down the front of his shirt to smooth out some of the wrinkles, ran a hand through his ruffled hair.

“Alright, well,” Tony started, “see you in the morning then.”

Steve nodded as he pushed himself up off the bed and crossed the room to where Tony stood. He slipped a hand around the back of Tony’s head and kissed him, rather insistently. “Yeah,” he whispered when they finally pulled apart, “don’t be late.”

“Me? Never. I love mornings,” Tony replied with an impish grin before he pressed a quick kiss against the corner of Steve’s mouth and ducked out the door.

Steve hung back for a moment to regain his composure before heading back out to where they’d left the others. Tony had already left, but Rhodey was still there and he and Bucky had apparently devised some sort of corncob-balancing Jenga-like game. Never one to let a terrible idea pass him by, Steve settled next to Sam at the table and helped himself to a baked potato. He pointedly ignored the sympathetic half-smile Sam sent him.

***

Corncob Jenga somehow turned into a pick-up game of Army vs. Air Force basketball. Steve and Bucky were down by eleven points when Bucky started whining.

“This is so not fair,” he complained as Sam knocked the ball out of his hands once again. He could only watch as Sam passed it easily around Steve to Rhodey, who dribbled a few steps with the ball before pitching it through the hoop from the three-point line.

“Aw, come on, just admit it - Army boys can’t hold their own against the Air Force,” Rhodey said with a grin.

“Well the odds are kinda stacked in your favor…” Bucky moped as he tugged off the rubber hand he sometimes wore over his hook. It made it nearly impossible to grip things, but it did have the benefit of not puncturing the ball when he tried to dribble.

“I’d make a joke about white boys and jumping, but come on, Steve barely has to jump to reach the hoop.” Sam gestured toward the rusty old hoop that was haphazardly screwed onto the garage door. They’d had to set very strict rules against dunking, since any weight more than a Chihuahua was likely to tear the whole thing down.

“Yeah, an asthmatic and a guy with one hand against the two of you,” Steve wheezed, gesturing towards Rhodey and Sam. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, and breathing hard.

“Shit, man,” Sam said, rushing to his side. He pressed a bottle of water into Steve’s hands and wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

“‘M fine,” Steve insisted, batting away Sam ineffectively. “Just need a sec.”

“Like hell you do, punk,” Bucky objected as he picked up the ball and pitched it into the garage. “Sorry Rhodey, I think playtime’s over for tonight.”

“Hey, yeah, of course, no worries. Anything I can do?” 

He watched in concern as Steve and Sam made their way into the house.

“Nah, he’ll be alright in a bit. Thanks though.”

“I gotta ask - how’d he get past the medical exams for the Army with asthma like that?”

Bucky shrugged. “Didn’t used to have it. It’s not really asthma, actually, just a lung thing he brought back with him from…” He gestured vaguely towards the east. “Sam said, in group therapy the first day we met him, ‘some things you leave behind’” - he held up his left arm, the one that ended just below the elbow - “‘other things you bring back with you.’”

“IED?” Rhodey asked, nodding towards Bucky’s hook.

“Shark attack,” Bucky shot back, then grinned as Rhodey’s face crumpled in horror. “Nah, man, just kidding. That’s just what I tell the tourists.” He caught himself rubbing his wrist again and forced himself to stop. “Yeah, got hit in an explosion during what shoulda been a routine sweep. Still think I got the better end of the deal, though. Sure, I’ll probably never be a professional harp player, but at least I can still breathe just fine. Breathing’s kinda important.” He caught himself rubbing idly at his arm where the prosthetic was attached and dropped his hands. “‘S why we came up here. The sea air, it’s good for him. And the quiet. City’s too noisy for me and Sam, these days. So it’s best for all of us, really, living in the ass of nowhere. Good for Steve’s lungs, good for our nerves, good for Sam’s-”

“Tan,” Sam chimed in as he walked back out to join them.

Bucky rolled his eyes even as he laughed. “Sure thing, slugger.”

Rhodey let out a chuckle, nodding to himself as he seemed to process what Bucky had told him.

Bucky pushed himself off the banister he’d been leaning on and paused to give Rhodey’s shoulder a squeeze before gathering the empty beer bottles closest to him. “Sorry to dump all that on you.”

Rhodey waved a hand to signal it was fine and started collecting plates and bottles. In a few minutes, any signs of their impromptu dinner gathering had been cleared away.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said as he put the last empty bottle in the recycling bin. “See you guys in the morning then, yeah?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Rhodey said with a warm smile. “Hopefully I can get Stark out of bed on time.”

“You can tell him I’ll make sure Steve is wearing one of his shirts that are two sizes too small,” Bucky offered with a grin.

“You know, that’ll probably do the trick.”

***

Rhodey had every intention of going straight back to the B&B. It was only when he walked past The Bearded Clam and heard the laughter inside, and saw the warm light pouring out the windows, that he decided Tony could wait a few more minutes for his company.

It was late so the bar crowd had thinned some from what Rhodey’d seen the night before. He could take a seat at the bar without being pinned in on both sides at least.

He’d no sooner parked his ass on a stool than Clint spotted him and gave him a happy wave.

“You must be a glutton for punishment if you’ve come back to get your ass kicked at darts again,” Clint greeted.

“No, no darts,” Rhodey said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Just beer.”

“Just beer, I can do.”

Clint poured him a glass of something cold, with just the right amount of foam. Rhodey expected him to go attend to another customer once he handed his drink over, but Clint leaned against the counter instead.

“Last night, you got that the whole thing with Natasha was an act, right?” Clint asked.

He glanced toward her, and Rhodey did, too. She was laughing with a table of older women, a tray balanced half on her hip. Rhodey flicked his eyes forward again, determined not to stare.

“Yeah, I put it together,” Rhodey said. “You had us going though. I thought Tony was about to turn tail.”

“He seemed to lose interest pretty fast once Steve showed up,” Clint pointed out.

“Yeah, well, that’s Tony for you.”

“I’m glad I didn’t give you the wrong impression. It was pointed out to me a couple of times today that maybe I did.”

Clint avoided his eyes. It took Rhodey a few seconds to put together why Clint had gone all shifty.

“Oh,” Rhodey says. “ _Oh_. Look, I’m flattered, I really am. You seem great. Like a real swell guy. I just don’t swing that way. If I did, you’d be top of the list.”

For about five seconds, Clint went absolutely still. Then he started laughing and he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“Swell guy,” Clint repeated, grabbing the side of the bar to keep on his feet. 

Right when it would look like he was about to stop laughing he’d start up again. At some point Rhodey just had to laugh too, because Clint took being let down easy like a champ.

Clint finally calmed enough to let go of the bar, and wiped the tears out of his eyes with the hem of his sleeve.

“Okay. I’m gonna try this again, and this time I’m not going to be stupid about it. Nat thinks you’re hot. She was pissed I might have ruined her chances of banging you. Go talk to her. Maybe try not to call her swell.” Clint started laughing again. “Oh, and this beer’s on me. This is the best thing to happen to me all week.”

Rhodey might have been more embarrassed if his brain hadn’t landed on Clint’s use of the word “banging” and stopped right there. Clint could tease all he wanted. Rhodey needed to go say hello.

Natasha turned when she saw him approaching, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “Hey, sailor.”

“Hey,” Rhodey greeted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and leaving us delicious kudos and comments!
> 
> We are [orbingarrow](orbingarrow.tumblr.com) and [imafriendlydalek](imafriendlydalek.tumblr.com) on tumblr - come say hi! We don't bite, or pinch, or whatever. (At least not too hard ;-) )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from these silly dweebs.
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments and delicious kudos! You make our hearts sing!

There was a ringing coming from somewhere inside Tony’s head. 

What the heck?

He blinked drearily from where he’d fallen asleep at the table the B&B was trying to pass off at a desk.

His paperwork was vibrating. That was weird.

It took an embarrassingly long moment for Tony to figure out that it was his phone ringing, buried somewhere under the paperwork he must have fallen asleep on.

“‘Lo?” he answered groggily once he’d managed to dig it out.

“Tony?” Steve asked.

“Shit,” Tony let out. He looked down at his watch. “I mean, not shit that you’re calling,” he backtracked. “Shit that you’re calling because I’m late.”

“Everything alright, Tony? We’re ready to head out once you and Rhodey come down to the dock. Weather’s nice and I hear there’s a good run on yellowfin tuna today.”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. How come Rhodey hadn’t come by to check on him yet? That was uncharacteristic. Tony fought down a stab of worry as he tugged off his slept-in shirt. “We’ll be there in about fifteen, okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Steve replied. “Not leaving without you anyway.” There was a chuckle in his voice, so at least Tony could relax knowing that the guys weren’t mad at him

He managed to get ready in record time and was knocking on Rhodey’s door just a few minutes later. “Rhodey-o, platypus, tide waits for no man!”

There was a muffled groan from behind the door, followed by some hushed murmuring. Tony was just about to knock again when the door opened. It wasn’t Rhodey who slipped past him, though, but Natasha, the gorgeous redhead from the bar.

“Um, hello,” Tony started.

Natasha quirked a mischievous smile. “He’ll be out in a second. See you around, Tony.”

Tony watched as she disappeared down the hall, a confident sway in her hips. “Uh, sugarbear,” he called into Rhodey’s room over the running shower, “something you want to tell me?”

***

There was nothing Rhodey wanted to tell Tony. He was a private man, and Tony was not known for his ability to keep his damn mouth shut or his damn foot out of the aforementioned mouth.

Oh, if it was career-ending or something to keep Rhodey safe, Tony could be trusted. But this? A good-looking redhead like Natasha walking out of his room in the morning? No. The fewer details Tony had, the better.

Which unfortunately meant Tony took to filling them in all on his own.

“Daddy issues,” Tony declared, as they left the B&B. “Her father was in the Air Force? Left when she was young?

Rhodey shook his head. “You’re an ass and I'm not playing this game. Plus she’s Russian.”

“Russia’s got an Air Force,” Tony quipped. “I’d think you of all people would know that.”

For someone who was supposed to have been working all night, Tony had an unfair spring to his step. And this was before caffeine. Probably. Unless Tony’d been pounding Red Bulls for the last eight hours.

“You are suspiciously happy,” Rhodey said.

“For you!” Tony insisted. “This is a great town. That’s a great ocean. Natasha seems like a great girl.”

“Are you high right now?” Rhodey asked.

He knew Tony wasn’t. Some things just needed to be said.

“On life,” Tony said.

They were in a hurry but they still made a quick stop at a corner store for coffee and the whole time Tony was joking and poking Rhodey to get him to speed up.

If they hadn't already been a half an hour late, they would have ended up early.

“Come onnnnnn,” Tony prodded. “The yellow-something tuna are running today.”

Rhodey looked at Tony over his paper coffee cup. “Forget high,” Rhodey said. “This is some Invasion of the Body Snatchers stuff happening here. Is this what happens in Maine? Do you have an overwhelming urge to put on a cardigan?”

Tony’s eye roll said everything Tony couldn’t say because his mouth was too busy sipping his hot coffee.

“Fine. Looking forward to the tuna,” Rhodey relents. “I’m not sure how they’re going to run without feet but I guess we’re gonna find out.”

They arrived at the boat and Rhodey lowered his voice.

“Think we can keep the Natasha sighting between you and me?”

Tony smirked and then caught sight of Bucky and Sam and waved.

“Guess what Rhodey reeled in last night?” Tony called out, abandoning all pretense (if there ever was a pretense) of discretion.

“I liked you better when you were body-snatched,” Rhodey grumbled under his breath.

Tony only smacked him on the back and laughed.

***

“Wait, so you’re saying…” Bucky gestured towards Rhodey and raised an eyebrow. “He succeeded where you struck out?”

Tony glared at Bucky as if willing daggers to come out and stab him. “Well when you put it that way…”

“I did,” Bucky shot back with a grin. “Oh boy, this is already my favorite day ever.”

Steve threw a chunk of chum at Bucky. “Don’t be crass, Buck. It’s unbecoming.”

“Unbecoming,” Bucky chuckled. He winked back at his friend. “Or do you just have your knickers in a twist cuz-”

“Bucky,” Sam interrupted with a stern tone.

“You were un-be-coming,” Bucky muttered under his breath, drawing out the syllables to emphasize the last one.

Steve directed his attention towards the chum he was chopping, his ears slightly reddened. 

Tony sidled up to Steve and slipped a hand around the small of his back. “Hey, Captain. I really am sorry I had to duck out last night. There’s a thing - we’re kind of in the middle of a major acquisition and since I’m, you know, the CEO, there was some stuff that actually required me to go through and sign. Very boring grown-up stuff, but you gotta do what you gotta do…”

Steve relaxed into the touch, the corners of his mouth curling in a slight smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I understand.” His smile widened to a grin. “You wouldn’t want to be around me during the height of lobster season.”

“Oh man, he’s so right,” Sam interjected. “Guy is like a machine. Like there’s only one thing in this world that matters, and it’s got pincers.” He made grabby claws with his hands to emphasize the point.

Everyone on the boat laughed, which was just what was needed to shift the conversation to the matter at hand - fishing. 

***

“How come you’re not sunburned?” Tony demanded. 

He emphasized his irritation by poking Steve in the ribs repeatedly until Steve was forced to swat his hand away.

They were fresh off the boat and headed toward The Bearded Clam, the only restaurant in town with a covered patio out back. It was too nice of an evening for them to be trapped inside. Plus, the opportunity to drag Rhodey back to the bar and watch him interact with Natasha could not be missed. At least according to Bucky.

“I offered you my sunscreen,” Steve pointed out. “Twice. And you-- now I’m quoting you here-- ‘have perfect, unburnable skin’. So I think you probably know the answer to your own question.”

Steve turned to get a better look at Tony. It was really only a slight burn, and just on the bridge of his nose and a bit on his cheeks. If anything, it gave Tony a sort of beach-day look that did a real number to Steve’s self-control.

“Sunscreen is a scam,” Tony said, waving a hand in the air in defiance. “I went to a med tech summit once, and you know who sponsored the muffins? Coppertone. Big Sunscreen is a thing.”

“Is he always this much fun?” Sam asked.

“This is his best behavior,” Rhodey said. “You should see him when he’s feeling frisky.”

“Think we’ll leave that to Captain Rogers,” Bucky said with a wink. He wrapped his good arm low around Sam’s waist and gave him a forceful tug closer.

“Speaking of--,” Sam said. “I know we’re all excited to watch Rhodey choke with Nat,” Sam started.

“Thanks for the confidence,” Rhodey interrupted.

“But you two--” Sam pointed at Steve and Tony, “might want to reconsider your life choices if you’d rather spend your evening with us than alone at the house. Just saying.”

Steve paused. He hadn’t wanted to ditch his friends outright but Sam was the ultimate wing man and damn if he wasn’t pulling through for Steve in this instance.

“We do have sunburn ointment at the house,” Steve said with a carefully nonchalant shrug. “Might want to put something on that.”

He reached over to lightly run his thumb over Tony’s cheek bone. Just touching him took Steve’s breath away, and this time it sure wasn’t the asthma.

A smile spread across Tony’s face. “Yeah, alright, let’s do that. I’m not getting any younger, after all, gotta stave off the wrinkles.”

Somewhere behind them, Rhodey snorted derisively.

Tony flipped him off.

***

Tony breathed in the salty evening air. As they walked back to the house, he found himself oddly drawn to this little town and its quirky inhabitants. He was going to miss them.

“Nice night,” he said somewhat wistfully.

Steve smiled over at him as he looped an arm around Tony’s waist. “Summers are nice around here. It’s the winters you gotta watch out for,” he added with a grin.

“I bet. We don’t really get winters out in Malibu. Though I do have some fun memories of snowy New York winters as a kid.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve cocked his head to the side as if prompting Tony to elaborate.

“Jarvis and I once built an igloo out in front of the Mansion. Right in the middle of the driveway. Dad was _not_ happy.” Tony caught himself smiling. It had been a while since he’d really experienced winter.

Steve chuckled. “Buck and I used to get in the most epic snowball fights with the other kids on our block. One time, though, he knocked out old Mrs. Conroy’s living room window. Boy did he get a whoopin’! I mean, not literally,” he added quickly, “but let’s just say it was was a very stern talking to.” He held up one hand as a shield and stage-whispered to Tony, “Ran home crying to his ma, he did. Who yelled just as hard.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. Stories of kids being yelled at usually hit a bit close to home for him, but the image of little Bucky getting taken down a notch by a tiny old lady was too perfect.

They’d soon reached the house, where Steve let them in and pulled out a beer for Tony and a soda for himself. They drank them out on the porch, swapping stories of their wayward youth. It was nice, their easy togetherness. Companionable. Something Tony wouldn’t mind continuing beyond this weekend. If not for the tiny problem that they lived literally on opposite ends of the country.

Steve drained his can and set it down on the arm of his chair. “You want another?” he asked, gesturing towards Tony’s beer.

“Na, I’m good. Unless you’re trying to get me drunk so you can make a move on me, in which case, I’ll take five more.”

That earned him a laugh and a mischievous grin from Steve. “I’ll be right back with more, then,” he said, moving to get up.

Tony moved quicker, though, sliding out of his chair to climb into Steve’s lap, who let out a loud “Ooof!” as Tony settled.

“Actually, don’t bother.” Tony reached up to run a hair through Steve’s short blond hair and reveled in the way Steve leaned into the touch. “I’m a sure thing either way, Captain.”

It nearly knocked the wind out of him how quickly Steve surged forward to wrap Tony up in a kiss, and before he knew it, Steve had slid his arms under Tony’s ass and was lifting, carrying Tony into the house. God, those arms were a thing of beauty. They deserved to have temples built dedicated to their worship.

***

Tony woke up the next morning to the smell of eggs, bacon and coffee, and the sound of Sam and Bucky singing.

“Well well well,” Bucky drawled when Tony stumbled into the kitchen. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“I can assure you, there were no cats involved. Just some very irresistible arms attached to a pretty blond head. Either of you seen it?” 

Sam gestured towards the bathroom with the spatula. Now that the two had stopped singing, Tony could hear the shower over the sound of sizzling bacon. “Should be out in a minute. For an Army guy, Steve sure is a firm believer in a Navy shower.”

“Good to know,” Tony said. “Is it a conservation thing or a Steve thing?”

“It’s a grew up with an unpredictable hot water thing,” Bucky supplied. “Never knew when life was about to take a cold, cold turn.”

Tony took a seat at the table and gave Bucky a nod of thanks when Bucky placed a mug of steamy coffee in front of him.

“Must be nice, having a life-long friend,” Tony mused. “All that shared history.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse,” Bucky said as he took the seat across from Tony. “Probably makes me worry more than I oughtta. I feel responsible for him, you know?”

“I’ve known Rhodey more than half my life. I get it. Or probably more, he gets it. Speaking of-- how’d honeybear fare?”

“Like a champ,” Sam said, with a proud sort of smile.

“Nat’s not the easiest person to get to know,” Bucky added. “But she seems to like Rhodey a lot. It’s a shame you guys are leavin’ this afternoon.”

Tony nodded and couldn’t stop the slow let-out of air that came with how deflated the thought of leaving made him feel. He’d done all he could not to think about it. Opposite sides of the country. No matter how good and right it felt in this town, it wouldn’t work.

“No lobsters in the Pacific?” Tony asked.

“Not the kind we fish.”

“Right.”

***

Bucky and Sam excused themselves to have breakfast on the patio as soon as Steve walked in.

“Way to give a guy a complex,” Steve called after them.

“You’ll thank us later,” Sam called back.

“Do they cook all your one-night stands breakfast or am I special?” Tony asked.

Steve picked up the plate the guys had put together for him and then walked it to the table. He stooped down and kissed Tony on top of the head before he took his seat.

“Wouldn’t know,” Steve said. “You’re the first that I’ve ever brought home. And it doesn’t happen all that often to begin with.”

Next to never, actually. Steve didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on Tony, though, so he left it vague. It would be awkward if Tony understood exactly what a big deal this was to Steve.

“You’re kidding me,” Tony said. 

“Scout’s honor,” Steve said. “What about you? Serving a lot of breakfast?”

Tony shook his head. “Not recently, no. I make a mean omelet though. If you’re ever in Malibu.”

“Not often,” Steve said. Not ever. He rubbed a hand over his face. “This sucks.”

Tony let out a quiet, sad sort of laugh. “It really does.”

They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, Steve’s knee pushed up against Tony’s thigh, Tony’s hand resting easily on Steve’s knee. It was nice. It felt right. Even if an air of finality hung over them.

“You did that?” Tony asked, nodding towards the painting that hung over the tiny kitchen table. It was of the sea on a stormy day, a small boat rolling in the waves.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It, uh, it helps me clear my head. The tourists, they only buy the happy Americana stuff, so I paint more of that kind of stuff - helps pay the bills and keeps me busy during the winter - but sometimes you just get an idea in your head and you gotta let it out.”

Tony let out a snort. “Don’t I know it. I once developed a system that lets you reprogram memories so I wouldn’t have to deal with old baggage.”

“That sounds… drastic,” Steve tested.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “I also built an artificial intelligence system to run my house because I could never remember to buy groceries.”

Steve laughed. “Wow, I could use one of those. Or at least to yell at Sam when he drinks right out of the juice carton again.” 

Tony frowned down into his glass of orange juice, but Steve laid a reassuring hand on his wrist. “Don’t worry, I opened a new carton.” 

Their moment was interrupted by Tony’s phone ringing - thankfully not Marvin Gaye this time but rather “You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling”. 

“Sugarbear,” he answered. 

Must be Rhodey, Steve surmised.

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure.” Tony did not sound enthused about whatever Rhodey was saying. “Well, not like it’s gonna leave without us. Yeah, I know. Fine, give me a few minutes.”

Steve busied himself with the washing up, doing his best to not look like he was bothered greatly by the fact that Tony evidently had to leave soon. It was just a fun fling, after all.

“Hey, Capitán,” Tony purred as he slid an arm around Steve’s waist, rocking forward onto his toes to stretch up and lean his head on Steve’s shoulder. “I gotta head out. Looks like that acquisition is moving forward faster than expected and I have to pop in at the Manhattan office and woo the Board.”

“Gee, that sounds like fun,” Steve deadpanned, raising a hand to stroke through Tony’s hair.

“Barrel of laughs,” Tony shot back. He untangled himself from Steve just long enough for him to turn around, then took a firm hold of his hips once again.

Steve wished those hands would never stop touching him. He fought back the thought as he leaned down to press a kiss on the slightly sunburnt tip of Tony’s nose.

_I don’t want you to go._

Steve thought it but he stopped short of saying it. That wouldn’t be fair to Tony. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. 

“If you ever end up back in Maine...” Steve said.

“I know exactly where to find you,” Tony confirmed.

Steve stole one more kiss and walked Tony to the front door. Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and gave Steve a sad-looking smile.

“See you around, Cap.”

And that was it. No drawn out goodbyes. No promises that they would call or text. Steve knew, and figured Tony knew too, that sometimes it was better to leave a good thing whole and in the past than to drag it forward and for the calls to dwindle. For the texts to become less frequent.

Steve waited until Tony was at the end of the walkway to close the door.

Catch and release.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooops, apparently we left you with a bit of a cliffhanger at the end of the last chapter... (Secretly we enjoyed seeing how involved you all are in this silly little lobster AU of ours... Yay!)
> 
> Don't fret - they will totally find their happy ending. Eventually. These things just take time sometimes. Especially when you are this far in denial (::glares at Steve::).
> 
> We hope you enjoy this next installment!

“We can’t just let them go,” Bucky insisted.

He and Sam were still on the back porch, but they’d heard the front door close. They’d heard Steve walk to his room and shut himself in. And from their vantage point on the deck they could see Tony’s back once he got to the end of the street.

“We can’t exactly lock him in the basement,” Sam pointed out. “Someone’s going to notice if Tony Stark disappears.”

“Why does your brain always go to kidnapping?” Bucky asked with a smirk. “Maybe I was suggesting we go talk to him like grown-ups.”

“Were you?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky reached over to stab Sam’s last bite of English Muffin with his hook. “We got a spare room and some padlocks. No reason to make it all complicated.”

He wasn’t being serious. He did think Tony and Rhodey should stay a little longer but he wasn’t about to trap them there.

“Let’s go check on Nat,” Sam suggested. “See if she’s got a plan.”

***

Nat had a plan. Nat always had a plan. No matter what you had in mind, even if it was just a matter of transporting a queen-sized (Bucky still giggled at that, because he was actually five.) (Except Sam loved him all the more for it, so what did that say about Sam?) mattress in a tiny Volkswagen, Nat had a plan.

“Stark builds things. Like engines. Bucky’s been pining for a new engine for Freedom for, like, forever.” She said it all matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Which, admittedly, it kind of was. Sam was kicking himself mentally for not thinking of it. 

“Now if _only_ you boys knew someone who knew someone who could put an idea like that in Stark’s head…” She smiled conspiratorially as she tapped her forefinger against her chin.

“You still in touch with Rhodey?”

Natasha just grinned and walked away to help some other patrons.

***

It was zero fun watching Steve pretend he wasn’t a mopey sack of mope wrapped up in mope ribbon all week.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Steve this bad off. 

And the worst, the _very worst_ part of it was that Steve seemed determined to suffer in silence. Sam had tried to talk to him, and Steve had shrugged him off. Bucky had tried to talk to him, and Steve had insisted he was fine. Even Clint had taken the barstool next to Steve and attempted to pry some feelings out of him, and Steve was a damn stone.

He was fine. He was happy. Everything in Steve-land was a-okay. 

It was painful to watch.

Bucky knew Nat had been in touch with Rhodey, but there was no guarantee that plan was gonna work. For all Bucky knew, Tony wasn’t interested. Steve really had been just a one-night stand and Tony wasn’t looking back.

That didn’t fit the Tony that Bucky’d gotten to know on the boat, but it fit the Tony Stark from the tabloids pretty well.

“Go get your shower and put on something nice,” Bucky told Steve, one late afternoon, once they were home from their morning check on the traps. “We’re going to Bangor.”

“Bangor?” Steve asked.

“You’ve been pestering me for a year to buy some new boots. No time like the present. Come on. No sayin’ no. It’s just me and you. Sam’s got plans.”

Sam’s plans were to sit around on his ass all night and watch Dog Cops. But Sam and Bucky’d both agreed prying Steve open was going to take three things: Alone time. A road trip. And a bangin’ mix tape.

“You’re really going to go buy new boots. Right now?” Steve asked.

“Fisherman’s honor. Come on. You want me to do it and I’m not gonna do it alone.”

Steve shook his head. “Fine. I’ll go. But you’re paying for gas.”

“And buying your dinner,” Bucky said. “Cause I’m nice like that.”

Steve looked resigned as he closed his door. But since resignation was better than refusal, Bucky figured it was a step in the right direction.

***

“What did you do to Tony?”

“Uh, nice to hear from you, Pepper. Hi.”

“Hi Jim,” Pepper said perfunctorily through her phone. “Glad you two seem to have enjoyed your outing to New England. Now please divulge whatever drugs Tony has gotten into now, because I need to either burn them all or buy a _whole_ lot more. I haven’t decided yet.” 

Rhodey laughed quietly as he leaned back in his desk chair and put his feet up, tucking his phone under his ear. It was good to be the boss. “What’s he doing?”

Pepper huffed. “It’s not so much what he’s doing that’s worrying me, more what he isn’t doing.”

“Okay,” Rhodey retried. “What isn’t he doing?”

“Arguing. I asked him how the Board meeting in New York went and he said ‘good’. He’s two days ahead of schedule on the new StarkPad, though JARVIS says he’s been keeping a regular sleep schedule. I gave him a huge stack of papers to sign and he did. Didn't even make any smartass remarks.”

“Gee,” Rhodey deadpanned. “Must be terrible when he does his job.”

“No, no, no, not terrible! Excellent. Just kind of… eery. So tell me: What did you do to him?”

Rhodey laughed. “I think it’s less what _I_ did to him and more what Steve did.”

“Steve? Who’s Steve? And where do I need to send the gift basket?”

***

“What’s this really about, Buck?” Steve asked, once the boots were bought and they were sitting in a booth in some pizza dive Clint recommended, both a couple of (non-hops) drinks in. 

They’d already decided they might as well make it a real road trip and checked into the hotel across the street for the night. That had freed them up to get shitfaced, and for once it was Steve who was ahead by a glass.

“You know what it’s about,” Bucky said.

“I don’t,” Steve complained, without any life at all in his words. He could hear just how dead he sounded but he couldn’t drum up anything more lively in response.

“You’re such a shit liar,” Bucky complained. “Why don’t you try that again? This time with feeling.”

“Fine. I miss him. I miss Tony. Is that what you want to hear?”

Steve knew it was unfair for him to take out his irritation on Bucky, he really did. He was just worn thin from stress and want and everything else that went along with falling for someone you can’t have and Bucky kept poking at him. Wouldn’t let it drop.

“No, it’s crap,” Bucky said, not taking the bait to argue. “But you’ve got to admit it’s crap if you’re going to do something about it. This denial business is gettin’ you nowhere. Sam’s worried. Clint’s worried. Hell, Natasha’s worried, and that’s really something.”

“He’s not interested,” Steve said. “If he was-- he’s got my number. He knows where to find me.”

“Phones work both ways,” Bucky reminded him.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t want to do that. Not to either of us. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Bucky sighed and leaned in against Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It sucks and I wish it didn’t suck.”

Steve felt more than a little tipsy and he leaned right back against Bucky. Bucky, who was always there for him. Who’d been there for him for years and years and years.

“You remember that thing we learned in 10th grade English?” Steve asked, drunk enough for the nostalgia part of the evening to kick in. “The saying about ‘Tis better to have loved and lost?”

“Than never to have loved at all,” Bucky completed. “Yeah. Couldn’t tell you who wrote it but I remember it.”

“Well it’s bullshit,” Steve said. “Of all the stupid things they taught us in school, I’m pretty sure that’s the stupidest. Stupid...er. Most stupid.”

Bucky nodded. “Never did understand how that would be true.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “I knew him for two days. It can’t be love.”

“Says who?” Bucky asked. “I knew I loved Sam about a minute after I met him.”

“A minute after you met Sam he called you a punk and dumped a drink in your lap.”

“Like I said,” Bucky persisted. “A minute after I met Sam, I knew he was the one.”

***

“Stupid sonofa- gaaah.” Tony tossed the circuit he’d been working on over his shoulder in frustration, feeling more than a bit of glee as it crashed into something that shattered spectacularly.

“Sir, Colonel Rhodes has just pulled through the gate.”

“Thanks, J.” Tony wiped his hands on a bit of rag as he pulled himself to his feet and made his way to the garage. “To what do I owe the pleasure, honeybadger?”

“Pepper says you finished your last two projects ahead of schedule.”

“I did,” Tony said with a nod. What was Rhodey on about? “That a _problem_?”

“Nope, not at all, for the company. I’m just… surprised? Let’s just say you’re not known for that sort of thing. Usually there’s a car engine that needs taking apart and putting together again upside down or something else that gets in the way.”

Tony shrugged. “I hit a streak of concentration?”

Rhodey huffed at him. He actually huffed, that bastard.

“What? It happens…”

“Sure it does, Tony. Maybe while you’ve got it, you could take another look that high-efficiency green jet engine you kept promising me a few years ago…”

Now it was Tony’s turn to huff. “We shelved that for a reason. Not enough power to keep you in the air. Which I think is kind of important in your line of work, eh?”

“Little bit…” Rhodey replied with a half-smile and a shrug. “The idea might work for the Navy, though.”

Tony was about to shoot back why Rhodey should care if an idea worked for the Navy, but then it hit him. Huh, fancy that. Rhodey actually did have a point. Well, sort of. Maybe not for the real big ships, not yet, but smaller craft…

Tony spun on his axis and slid onto his work stool, pulling up the folder for the StarkMotor 5743.

“I _was_ gonna ask if you wanted to grab some lunch,” Rhodey said quietly. He was angling at something, Tony could tell. Tony could always tell.

Instead of pushing to find out what it was, though, Tony shushed him with a single finger held up over his shoulder. “Not now, hotstuff. I’m kind of having a Eureka moment right now.”

“Alright, maybe another time.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony replied, not really listening to what Rhodey was saying. He was already neck-deep in schematics.

***

Rhodey couldn’t help but smile to himself as the door to Tony’s lab slid shut behind him. Mission accomplished.

He pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text message as he jogged up the stairs. 

_Seed planted. Operation Tonyception is in play._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the pieces are moving into place to give Operation Tonyception its best chance at success! Also, some Sam/Bucky fluff. Because reasons.

“Tonyception?” Sam asked. “And we think that’s good news?”

Nat shrugged. “If it was bad news, I don’t think he’d have used a cutesy code word.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing a guy who uses cutesy code words,” Clint grinned.

“How about we not call it ‘doing’,” Bucky said. “That gives me visuals.”

“Awwww. Does grown-up sex make you uncomfortable?” Natasha asked him, making a silly sort of pouty face in his direction. “Would you rather think we snuggle?”

“Cuddle?” Clint suggested.

“Play doctor?” Sam asked.

Bucky waved his hook menacingly. “I hate all three of you.”

“And we hate you, too,” Natasha smiled.

It was late. They were the last people in The Bearded Clam, which made it the perfect time to discuss what was going on (or not going on) with Steve and Tony in privacy. But of course, that had to involve a shit ton of talking smack or else it’d be all kinds of awkward, gossiping like little old women.

“You really think Rhodey’s gonna come through on this?” Sam asked.

“He’s doing what he can. Tony’s the one who’s got to make the first move since it sounds like Steve’s not budging,” Natasha said.

“He’s like a damn oak tree,” Bucky complained. “It’d take a chainsaw to move his stubborn ass.”

“Then Rhodey’s our best bet,” Sam agreed. “Thank him for us, will you?”

“You can thank him yourselves if you want,” Natasha said. “He’s dropping by this weekend. Only for one night, but he’ll be around.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhhh,” Clint said. “Don’t let Bucky hear he’s spending the night. The scandal might break him.”

“Have I mentioned how much I hate our friends?” Bucky asked Sam. “Cause I do.”

“Yeah, well, you drag our asses up to the boondocks of Maine, you take what you can get.”

Clint made a kissy face at Bucky and Sam slapped a twenty down on the table.

“When Clint starts making eyes at my man, that’s when I know I’m out,” Sam laughed.

“And when Sam’s out, I’m out,” Bucky said as he stood. “Dicks.”

“You kiss your boyfriend with that potty mouth?” Natasha asked.

“I’m gonna show you exactly what I can do with this mouth,” Bucky challenged. He made a swipe for the zipper of Sam’s jeans and Sam took a quick step back.

“Easy there, tiger. Let’s save it for bed.”

“Have fun cuddling!” Clint called after them.

“You think they’re ever gonna let this drop?” Bucky asked.

“Man, it’s gonna be chiseled on your headstone,” Sam laughed. “Here lies James Prude Buchanan Cuddles Barnes-Wilson.”

Bucky could only sigh. “Shit.”

*** 

Steve huffed in frustration as the wind rattled his canvas. He’d wanted to clear his head and needed some quiet to do so, so Sam and Bucky had gone out without him to check the traps while he had headed to the beach to do some painting. Painting usually helped him work through whatever was going through his mind, but for some reason today it wasn’t happening. He’d intended to work on something just for himself, but nothing came out right. Instead, the image that was slowly appearing on the canvas before him was just another sunset-over-the-dock scene, the kind the tourists loved to buy but that brought him little happiness to produce.

Oh well. At least he’d be able to sell it for a few bucks.

***

“I do kinda like the sound of it, though,” Bucky said into the darkness. 

Sam stirred halfheartedly, nuzzling into his pillow a little closer. “Wassat?”

Bucky rolled over onto his side and traced a finger along Sam’s shoulder blades. Sam shuddered at the touch, not really wanting to give up sleep but happily willing to do so for moments like this.

“Barnes-Wilson,” Bucky elaborated quietly. “Or Wilson-Barnes. Guess it depends on if we want to be at the front of the phone book or the end.”

Sam was suddenly very awake. Was Bucky saying what he thought he was saying? It’d been an offhand remark, part of a joke really - but then again, there’s half the truth in any joke, Sam’s mama used to say, and that certainly applied in this case. It was absolutely something Sam wanted - not that he’d been angling for a proposal when he’d made a joke about Bucky’s headstone, but then again, that was kind of an inevitable part of growing old together. Which was totally the idea of getting married, was it not? 

“Are you-?” Sam started.

“I am,” Bucky shot back as Sam’s words trailed off.

Sam rolled over so he could actually see Bucky, who was smiling down at him.

“I wanna keep you, Sam Wilson. For cuddles and whatnot for always.”

Sam could feel that he was grinning like a fool. His heart was hammering in his chest as he leaned in just close enough to brush a chaste kiss over Bucky’s lips. “Adult pajama parties for the rest of our lives?”

“Adult pajama parties for the rest of our lives,” Bucky mirrored.

“I’m in.”

“Good.”

***

Tony tried to pay attention on the board call, he really did. Took notes and everything, just like he told Pepper he would. There was just one problem. Over the course of the two hour call, he'd only written one word: Boat.

Oops?

***

“What did you do to Tony?”

“Ummm, fixed him?” Rhodey asked.

When he heard Pepper take a slow, even breath, he knew he was in trouble.

“ _Didn’t_ fix him?” Rhodey ventured.

“Did not fix him,” Pepper agreed. “I was worried about business-productive Tony. I am exasperated by won’t-answer-my-calls-and-only-talks-about-boat-engines Tony. What did you do?”

“Operation Tonyception,” Rhodey mumbled into the phone.

Pepper drew in another long breath. “Do I want you to repeat that?”

“Operation Tonyception,” Rhodey enunciated. “It’s got to do with that Steve guy I mentioned. I thought this was going to fix things.”

There was more silence.

“That sounds like a story,” Pepper finally said. “Drinks?”

“I’m heading to Maine tomorrow. Do you have plans for tonight?”

“I’m heading to New York this afternoon. Could you meet me there before you head to Maine?”

“It’s a date,” Rhodey agreed before he added, “Man, when it rains it pours.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh. Just I’ve been going through a dry spell and now two hot redheads want to meet up for drinks in one day. Everything’s comin’ up Rhodes.”

Rhodey was joking. He knew Pepper was happy with her latest relationship and meeting up for drinks was going to be nothing but a catch-up session between friends. But damn, when you had the kind of luck Rhodey was having, you had to brag about it. You just had to.

“Right. Tony mentioned you were in the middle of a drought,” Pepper said, and Rhodey could hear her smirk.

“Dry spell,” Rhodey corrected. “Which is over now. Two red-heads. One day. Or did you miss that part, Potts?”

Pepper laughed. “I’ve missed you, Jim. I’ll text you the details once I know where I’ll be. And I’m telling you now, I expect full disclosure. I want to hear all about this Steve person you mentioned, everything about Operation Tonyception, and all the details about this mystery girl of yours. It’s been too long.”

Now it was Rhodey’s turn to laugh. No one could get down to business like Pepper. Leave it to her to create an agenda for Happy Hour.

“Send me a time and a place and I’ll be there,” Rhodey confirmed. “Between Tony and Steve, we can use all the help we can get.”

***

Pepper was all in.

Pepper was so in, that she demanded Rhodey stick around for the two hours it would take her to work her business magic after their drinks, so that he could road trip with her to Maine. She needed to meet these people to believe they were real. Without physical proof, she was going to remain convinced that this was all some sort of elaborate prank or co-experienced hallucination.

There was no such place as The Bearded Clam. There just wasn’t. And there was no Captain Steve, because Tony would not step foot on a lobster boat. And there definitely was no first mate with a hook for a hand, a convenient Air Force buddy for Rhodey, or a hot red-head to round out the sea crew.

“If this is all some scheme of Tony’s to... to...” Pepper trailed off, because if it was a scheme she really couldn’t see a point to it. “This better not be some ploy, James Rhodes, because I have ways of making you regret this.”

Rhodey just laughed. “I’m sure you do. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes either.”

At least it was a quick jaunt to Maine. Pepper authorized the use of a Stark Industries helicopter, since this trip _was_ related to the business if this was the inspiration for Tony’s new maritime obsession. Pepper had zero doubt that within the next few weeks SI would have some new nautical holdings and at least with early notice it might not derail the rest of their third quarter efforts.

With enough information, Pepper could make just about anything work. That was, if it all wasn’t some grand delusion.

Rhodey landed them at a tiny airport a few miles out from a minuscule sea town she could see as they flew overhead. It was so small it was probably more of a sea village, if that was a thing. They were only a mile or two from their destination but that wasn’t exactly walking distance for Pepper’s Louboutins. She tapped on her phone a few times.

“There’s no car service here,” Pepper said. That probably should have been obvious from what she’d seen on their approach.

“Oh, there’s a car service,” Rhodey said. “You’ve just got to know who to call.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get back to Steve and Tony soon and we promise it will be worth the wait!
> 
> If you'd like to find us away from Ao3, you can find Imafriendlydalek [HERE](http://imafriendlydalek.tumblr.com) and OrbingArrow [HERE!](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang continues to conspire. On opposite ends of the country, two idiots finally come to a revelation. Steve really loves to sand his poor old boat (and that's not even a euphemism).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting and replying to comments - real life has a way of conspiring, which left me (ima here!) without internet for two weeks (I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I SURVIVED) and moving to a new house and, oh yeah, I had a kid! (his middle name is Anthony because I love Tony THAT MUCH.) 
> 
> Please forgive us! We love and cherish every single one of you - without your delicious kudos and comments, this would have been a MUCH shorter fic! 
> 
> Also, since I've mentioned it in comments before, might as well say it here: I'm also working on the prequel of how Sam and Bucky got together and how the three of them ended up in Nowheresville, Maine. This story here takes precedence, though, of course, so it may take a while to actually get written. Hit that "subscribe" button so you get it when it comes!
> 
> Without further delay: have some more lahbstah fun!

“You know,” Natasha said, standing with a tray balanced on her hip and shooting an amused glare at Rhodey. “Usually when my date shows up with another girl they’ve arranged it with me in advance.”

She was kidding. Rhodey could tell by Natasha’s voice and by the crinkle at the edges of her eyes that she was only trying to get a reaction. He was a little worried Pepper wouldn’t realize it, but he ought to give Pep more credit. She didn’t seem the least bit thrown off.

She was probably just happy to be alive after Clint had decided to show off his NASCAR skills on their drive into town.

“Pepper Potts,” Pepper introduced herself, holding out a hand to Natasha. “And Jim only wishes.”

“Oh, I like you,” Natasha said.

“I hope so. We may be seeing a lot of each other.”

Clint looked between Natasha and Pepper. “With any luck, a whole lot of each other,” he whispered. Possibly to himself, because he looked startled at the twin glares aimed in his direction.

“Orrrrr... I could go get Pepper and Rhodey drinks,” Clint offered.

“I’ll try whatever’s local and on tap,” Pepper said.

Natasha’s nod to Clint said she approved.

“Not the seasonal,” Rhodey added. “Tastes like bilgewater,” he told Pepper.

Pepper laughed. “So you really are a regular here. I-- I have no words for this.”

“We were more than a little surprised ourselves,” Natasha said. “It’s not every day Tony Stark waltzes through the front door.”

“Depends on the door,” Pepper said. “I won’t take up much of your time, but I was wondering if you would mind postponing your date with Jim a few minutes so we could talk?”

“Not at all,” Natasha replied.

Rhodey groaned internally. The two of them together. What was he thinking? These were the type of women who could take over the world.

Momentarily dismissed, Rhodey walked to the bar, where Clint was not pouring drinks like he said, but tapping urgently into his phone.

“That looks like trouble,” Clint smirked, nodding toward where Natasha and Pepper had taken seats by the window.

“So does that,” Rhodey said, gesturing to Clint’s phone. “You texting Bucky and Sam?”

“You bet your ass I am,” Clint grinned. “They are not going to want to miss this.”

Texts sents, Clint put down his phone and handed Rhodey his beer. He had Pepper’s beer, too, but he didn’t move to take it over.

“You think they’re talking about us?” Clint asked.

“They’ll get around to it eventually,” Rhodey said. “But knowing Pep she’s probably asking about the Clam’s business plan, or your accounting software or--”

Pepper and Natasha laughed at the same time, and Natasha made a gesture that Rhodey couldn’t quite interpret but looked like trouble.

“Or us. They could definitely be talking about us.”

***

Steve looked up when Bucky and Sam’s phones vibrated in unison. That usually meant a group text, but he’d been left out. That’d been happening a lot lately.

“Something wrong?” Steve asked.

“Clint wants us at the bar,” Sam said.

It was late enough that they were finished out on the water for the day. They could have gone home already, but some evenings it was nice to just sit on the edge of the dock and chat with anyone who came past. It was better than sitting at home where Steve felt his insides slowly decomposing like driftwood.

“Just you two?” Steve asked.

Bucky leaned over to read the messages off Sam’s phone since his still-broken phone screen didn’t allow him to see what Clint had written. Only that the vibration of his own phone meant Clint had written something he ought to read.

“All three of us,” Bucky said, scanning the text. “Rhodey’s in town and he brought a lady friend Clint thinks we should meet.”

Steve didn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Tony didn’t come along. “I think I should just head home. Not really in the mood to meet anyone new.”

“Funny, I don’t recall hearing you give him that option, Bucky. Did you?” Sam asked.

“Nope, I did not. Attendance at the Clam is mandatory, Stevie,” Bucky said, as he stood and then reached down with his fingers-and-bones hand to help Steve up. “Clint swears you’re not going to want to miss this.”

Steve sighed as he stood and contemplated the odds of being able to make a break for it the entire way to the bar. He was faster than Sam but not always faster than Bucky. And if Bucky did catch him, well the hook was a real effective way to drag Steve wherever Bucky wanted him to go.

“Fine,” Steve said. “I’ll go. But you’re buying.”

“Deal.”

It turned out, Rhodey was buying.

It was the first thing Rhodey offered when Steve sat down on the barstool next to him. It was just the two of them, since in the least subtle move ever, Bucky and Sam headed straight for the jukebox to dawdle there. As if they haven’t had the whole catalogue memorized for a couple of years now. As if Sam hadn’t chosen half the songs that were in the thing.

Steve nodded at Rhodey’s offer, then scanned the rest of the room until he saw Natasha talking to a woman he didn’t recognize.

“Bucky said you brought a friend.”

“That’s Pepper,” Rhodey agreed.

“Tony’s Pepper?” Steve asked.

“Don’t let her hear you call her that, but yeah,” Rhodey nodded. “Oh, and look. You’ve been spotted.”

Natasha and Pepper were both looking at Steve. Natasha pointed at him and then pointed at her own chair as she stood. The message was clear. Steve had been summoned.

“Wish me luck?” Steve asked.

Rhodey laughed. “Pepper’s gonna like you fine. If anyone needs luck, it’s me. I’m the jerk that brought another woman along on our first real date.”

Steve gave Rhodey a pat on the back and couldn’t hold back his smirk. “You might be surprised how okay with that Natasha could be.”

Steve was certain Rhodey would be fine. Natasha was cool and tended to be uncomplicated in bedroom matters. Steve was absolutely her opposite. He’d tried to be cool about Tony. He’d tried to let him go with no strings attached. And he had regretted that from the minute Tony walked out the door.

“Steve?” Pepper asked, when Steve approached the table. She smiled at him warmly. Steve was not sure what he’d expected but it wasn’t that.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve agreed. 

“Please call me Pepper,” Pepper said. “And have a seat. This isn’t a job interview. I just wanted to meet you. Rhodey had a lot of good things to say.”

“Only Rhodey?” Steve asked. Then instantly wished that he hadn’t.

“Oh no,” Pepper said. “Not only Rhodey. But I haven’t seen much of Tony lately, to tell you the truth. He’s been distracted with work.”

Steve flinched internally. He’s not sure what he expected her to say, but somehow knowing that Tony was burying himself in work to forget him didn’t make Steve feel any better. It only made him feel more certain that everything was over. Tony would move on soon.

“Rhodey tells me you paint?” Pepper asked, deftly changing the subject away from Tony.

And at least it was a topic Steve could go on about for hours. And he did.

It had been years since Steve had met someone with an equal passion for art. Their discussion moved from gallery to gallery and artist to artist and on most things they agreed. The night crept on, and Rhodey and Nat stopped by the table before heading out to make sure that Steve would see Pepper safely back to her room at the bed and breakfast when they were through with their chat.

Steve agreed and it wasn’t long before Clint closed down the Clam and Steve walked with Pepper the few doors down. He went as far as the porch.

“You know,” Pepper said. “When Rhodey told me about this place and all of you, I thought he was making it all up.” She looked toward the ocean which was technically visible from where they stood, though it was more noise than anything in the darkness of near-midnight. “But this is nice. I think I understand now. We should keep in touch.”

Steve wasn’t sure what Pepper’s approval meant in the grand scheme of things, but he definitely felt like it was a good thing to have it.

***

“Gimme another, barkeep, I missed lunch today,” Tony said with a flashy grin as he tapped the counter. He scanned the room as the bartender poured out his drink - LA’s high society was out in full force. Tony generally didn’t mind these events, but he’d been pulled away from his latest Pet Project just as he’d made an exciting breakthrough.

But the gala was for a Good Cause, Pepper had assured him, so it was worth it. Plus both Pepper and Rhodey were there, so at least Tony was in good company. 

The two of them were off on the dancefloor, no doubt hacking out whatever plans they’d been working on for the last few weeks and pointedly not sharing with Tony, so Tony turned his attention to the rest of the party. LA’s “in crowd” was actually surprisingly small, and when one spent as much time at these events as Tony had over the years, you got to know each other fairly well. Most of the faces were pretty familiar by now, with the newcomers usually being brought in as someone’s date, so off limits. This event was slightly different, though, since it was in celebration of the completed renovation of the art museum, so the museum’s staff were in attendance as well. They were an interesting crowd - mostly art nerds, lots of hipsters, plenty of personality. They reminded Tony a bit of the lobster boat gang, in a way.

He picked up his drink and made his way over to one group he’d been introduced to earlier. Their conversation died as soon as Tony appeared, most of them looking at him in awe.

“Well this is awkward,” Tony started.

“Mr. Stark, we just -” a girl in her late twenties with some impressive tattoo sleeves stammered, but Tony cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I don’t bite, at least not too hard. Just trying to get a lay of the land, see what curators talk about in their free time.”

That earned him a laugh from the group. “Uh, last week’s episode of Game of Thrones, actually,” the girl offered.

“Well winter is coming, as my House says,” Tony said with a smile. That joke always went over well, and this crowd was no different. Soon they had an easy rapport going. Becca, the girl with the tattoos, turned out to be just Tony’s type - quick-witted, sharp sense of humor, easy on the eyes. And yet, he wasn’t feeling the spark. Same with Matt, one of the Associate Curators, who was everything Tony looked for in a guy and yet Tony felt no desire to turn up the charm with either. Which was, well, unusual.

Pepper and Rhodey joined the conversation after they’d had enough dancing, and Tony took a moment to take in the scene as Pepper and the art nerds geeked out about the new fountain light show by some up-and-coming light artist (what even was a light artist?!) that was going to be debuting that evening.

Pepper turned to Tony, calling him out of his thoughts. “Tony, why don't you show our new friends that painting you showed me? Get their professional opinion.”

“Yeah, alright,” he said as he pulled out his phone and swiped to the photo he’d snapped a few weeks earlier. He was starting to see through this plan Pepper and Rhodey had obviously been hatching. “Professional opinion. Sure. Whaddya think of this painting?”

Rhodey, traitorous jerk that he was, was rather obviously struggling to hide a grin behind his hand.

The painting was an “interesting mix of modern elements and traditional landscape painting”, it was deemed. 

“In your experience, do you think any of the galleries in New York would be interested in that kind of work?” Pepper prompted.

“I don’t think he-” Tony started.

“Friend of mine from grad school runs a gallery out in the Hamptons,” Matt said. “I bet this would be right up his alley.”

Pepper produced a business card - where she could possibly have been hiding them in that dress was anyone’s guess - and pressed it into Matt’s palm with instructions to call her to set something up. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” she apologized, “I need to go catch up with an old friend. Enjoy your evening, all of you.”

She disappeared with a smile, leaving Rhodey and Tony with the art crowd.

“Soooo…” Rhodey started. “Art.”

“Art,” Becca parroted. She cocked her head to the side as if assessing him. “Not your thing?”

Rhodey shrugged. “I leave that sort of thing to Pepper and the experts.”

A guy in a plaid shirt appeared behind Becca and informed them that the show was starting in a few minutes, so the group made their way to the courtyard where the fountain was. Tony found himself standing with Rhodey on one side and Matt close on the other. He peered over at Matt as the music and lights started to come on. Matt was good-looking, that was for sure, and seemed like a fun guy. 

And yet Tony felt no desire to take things further. When Matt nudged him flirtatiously, Tony just smiled and shifted to put a few inches between them.

The music, the different colored lights and the spraying fountains reached a crescendo, and that’s when it hit him. Like the moment of revelation in the cheesiest of movies. There it was, the explanation for his sudden change in habits.

“Shit,” Tony blurted out.

Someone behind him hissed an angry “shhhh!” at him.

He was in love with Steve. Most plausible explanation, clearly. That’s why he wasn’t interested in Matt, or Becca, or anyone else really. That’s why he was suddenly incredibly invested (figuratively and literally - he’d just signed a partnership agreement with a company that made boat engines) in maritime technology and had found himself looking up the dates for the Atlantic lobster season.

Of course the real question was: what the heck was Tony supposed to do with a revelation like that?

***

Steve took a step back from his easel and sighed as he took in the painting that had emerged on the canvas.

The subconscious mind was a strange place.

Somehow his “quaint fishing scene” of a fishing boat chugging into port at the end of the day as the fog rolled in over a small fishing town had turned into a lobster boat making its way up the Hudson, New York’s unmistakable skyline behind it.

That doesn't even make sense, Rogers, he told himself. There's no lobsters in the Hudson.

But maybe he just missed the City. He loved living in Maine - the solitude, the silence, the freedom of the open sea - but home is home, you know? Perhaps it was time for a visit. 

After lobster season, of course.

***

Sam and especially Bucky liked to tease Steve about how much time he spent sanding and repainting the Freedom, but there was something about the repetitive work that felt almost meditative. All that scraping back and forth, back and forth, Steve would find himself in a clear headspace that was almost zen-like, where he was both at one with his thoughts and completely free from them.

It was usually hard to bring him out of that state once he got into it, but one throat being cleared behind him was enough to do it that day.

He dropped the sandpaper and jerked to a standing position. 

He knew that sound. That wasn't Sam or Bucky or even Mako Matty from the boat one slip over.

Steve turned around slowly, not quite trusting his subconscious mind. Maybe he just thought it was him, his mind wanting to fiercely to believe it could be--

It was.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was a mix of disbelief and elation at the sight of Tony standing on the edge of the dock, looking absolutely delectable in a pair of dark slacks and matching dark blazer over a ridiculous t-shirt with a shark about to maul a surfer. “What’re you doing here?” 

He kicked himself mentally for the stupid question. ‘Good to see you’ would have been better. ‘I've been hoping you would come’ would have been more accurate. ‘I've been missing you’ would have been the honest truth. 

Tony seemed a little startled by the question, but shook it off. “I come bearing gifts,” he replied as he pulled his sunglasses off his face. “Permission to come aboard, Captain?”

“Permission granted,” Steve said with a smile. “This isn't the Enterprise, you know. You can just come aboard without asking.”

He watched in amusement as Tony climbed over the railing somewhat clumsily and stumbled towards him, stopping just a few steps away. 

“Hmm, talk Trekkie to me, baby, I love it,” Tony practically purred.

“Uhh, I can't beam you up, we don't have the power?”

Tony’s eyes practically sparkled with delight as he laughed at Steve’s sad attempt. “God,” he said, clutching his side, “that was both the hottest and most pathetic thing I have ever heard.”

Steve smiled down at Tony and reached out to brush his fingers over Tony’s hand. “If I'da known you'd be out here, I'da brushed up on my Star Trek knowledge.”

Tony caught Steve’s fingers and held on. “Sorry. I should have called ahead or something. It's just - I wasn't sure if you wanted…” His voice trailed off, his gaze fixing out on the water, and he dropped Steve’s hand again to shove his hands in his pockets.

Steve closed the space between them and brushed a finger along Tony’s ridiculous goatee to turn his face so their eyes met again. “I'm glad you came.”

“Good,” Tony replied, snapping back to attention and into Tony Stark mode. “Like I said, I come bearing gifts.” He gestured towards a large wooden crate that sat on a dolly on the dock. Its side was emblazoned with the words STARK MARITIME.

“Tony, what's…?” Steve started, but he was cut off by a wave of Tony’s hand.

“Alright, I'll admit, this is maybe more a present for Bucky than for you, since he was the one who was all about wanting a new engine for Freedom. And actually I brought something else for him. Well two things, really. Shit, I got nothing for you or Sam but Christmas for Barnes, apparently.” Tony rubbed at the back of his head and shrugged up at Steve apologetically.

It was so adorable that Steve could not resist reaching out and wrapping a hand around Tony’s waist to pull him closer. He brushed a stray strand of hair off Tony’s forehead before leaning down to press a soft kiss onto Tony’s lips. God, he’d missed those lips.

“I'm glad you're here, presents or no.”

A smile flashed over Tony’s face before he reached up to drag Steve down for another kiss, decidedly more adamant this time.

“Good,” Tony breathed when they finally parted again. “Cuz my chopper pilot says there's fog rolling in and we wouldn't be able to fly out until tomorrow at the earliest.”

Steve pulled Tony closer. He couldn't stop smiling, but he didn't care. “I'd say hallelujah for the fog, but I think every fisherman on the Eastern seaboard would make me walk the plank just for thinking it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As they say in Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, "Everything will be all right in the end... if it's not all right then it's not yet the end."
> 
> This is not the end. Our two favorite idiots still have some stuff to figure out...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, more lobsters!

Steve was awesome. He was great. Being together with him was just as wonderful as Tony had remembered it, probably even better.

Except for that one silly little character trait they clearly did not share: Steve was evidently an incorrigible morning person.

They'd woken up before the sun, having called it a very early night (not that there had been much sleeping going on), and Tony had collected a few delicious morning kisses before rolling back over with a groan and pulling a pillow over his head when Steve had said he was heading out to check his traps and did Tony want to come along?

“As much as I would love to spend every waking minute we have together with you,” Tony had mumbled into his pillow, “I'm not about to go giving up glorious sleep just yet. Blame it on the jet lag. I'm on West Coast time, sugarlips.”

Steve had chuckled at the nickname and stolen another soft kiss before he'd headed out. When Tony woke up for real a few hours later, he'd fumbled his way down the narrow hall of the house Steve shared with Sam and Bucky until he'd found the bathroom. After a quick shower - the water clearly couldn't decide if it wanted to be scalding or frigid - Tony should maybe take a look at that - he made his way to the kitchen.

He was in the middle of hunting for the coffee filters when the back door opened with a creak.

“Uh, intruder?” Bucky’s voice called out behind him.

“Barnacle,” Tony greeted with a smile as he spun around. “And Sam, hey. Worst intruder ever, you'll find - I'm here to bring you things, actually. But first I require copious amounts of caffeine.” He rummaged through the overhead cabinet. “Where do you keep your coffee filters?”

“Ugh, Steve keeps stealing them for his art stuff. Or we may just be out. I can go get us coffee from the deli. And bagels.”

“Steve know you're here?” Sam asked as he reached up on top of the fridge and pulled down a new box of coffee filters from behind the Wheaties. “Secret stash,” he explained with a grin when Bucky shot him a questioning look. 

“Knew there was a reason I keep you around babe,” Bucky said. His expression radiated fondness, the kind everyone longed to be on the receiving end of. Wilson was a lucky man, Tony thought.

Instead he flashed a grin at the pair of them. “Oh yes, Steve knows. He is very well aware.” Tony let his voice ooze with insinuation.

“That explains the noises last night,” Bucky said, throwing his arms up. “Here I thought it was the damn raccoons in the trash again.”

“Fucking Rogers,” Sam said with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“That's the idea,” Tony interjected, but Sam ignored him.

“You're in town and lemme guess, he went out to check the traps?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, said he had to…” He let the sentence trail off when Sam and Bucky exchanged knowing looks.

“Goddammit, we leave him alone for one morning....” Bucky muttered as he set up the coffee machine.

“We had to go up the road to Bucksport,” Sam explained. He gestured towards Bucky, who waved his hook hand. “Orthopedist appointment.”

“I got Steve,” Bucky instructed once the coffee machine was dripping noisily. “Rally the troops. Meet me at the diner in an hour.”

With that, he disappeared out the door.

 

***

Bucky knew where to find Steve, and it wasn’t out in the open ocean checking traps by himself. He was on the boat though. For once, not even making extra chores for himself. Just sitting there watching the water.

“Saw Tony,” Bucky said, as he took a seat next to Steve. “He’s looking happy.”

Steve nodded. “Seems like.”

Steve was never the most talkative guy when it came to his feelings, and Bucky could practically feel the walls Steve had put up around this topic. They were nearly visible.

“You don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Steve asked.

“Look happy,” Bucky said.

“I am,” Steve sighed.

Bucky laughed. “It’s uncanny how much your happy looks sad as shit.”

Steve turned to glare at him.

“I’ve known you for a long time, Stevie. Longer than anybody. And I’m not letting this go. You want to make this work?”

“I _can’t_ ,” Steve said. “We can’t. That’s the point. That’s why I’m here when I ought to just be back at the house enjoying some time with him. No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t work. And that...”

“Sucks,” Bucky filled in for him. “But I don’t know that you’ve got to figure this all out on your own. Tony’s a smart guy. And he showed up here. Did it ever occur to you that maybe you don’t have to take care of everything and everyone all by yourself all the damn time?”

“Your ma would hate how much you cuss,” Steve hedged.

“And your ma would hate how much you’re alone,” Bucky shot back.

Steve looked ready to argue and then slouched, all the argument drained out of him. “I don’t even know if Tony’s looking for anything long term.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to stop being a wuss and ask him then, Cap.”

Bucky gave Steve a rough nudge, and Steve nudged him right back just as hard. Bucky reached for Steve’s wrist and turned it slightly so he could see the face of Steve’s watch.

“We’re going to meet them at the diner in about 40 minutes,” Bucky said. “I don’t mind sitting here till then. I can work on my tan.”

Steve laughed. Bucky was long past tan, like anyone who spent days and days out in the sun.

“You’re such a nerd,” Steve accused. “You’re just gonna sit here and walk me there cause you think I’m gonna sail myself off to distant lands so I won’t have to deal with reality.”

Bucky smirked. “I don’t think you’d leave me and Sam marooned in Maine indefinitely. But I do think you might walk in the other direction. At least for a bit. I’m saving you the trouble.”

“Can’t maroon people somewhere that’s inhabited,” Steve gruffed. “What kind of pirate are you?”

“Of the two of us, which one’s got a hook and a name that’s totally short for Buccaneer?” Bucky asked.

Steve laughed in spite of himself. They went quiet for a minute or two.

“You really think we could do this?”

“Between your stubborn and Stark’s smarts, I think there’s not much in the world that could stand in your way.”

***

“Soooo,” Sam began, “what brings you to our neck of the woods?” He added a wink for effect.

Tony smiled, the toothy kind of grin that declared that he was Up To No Good. “Oh, you know, just wanted to get some sea air…”

“Don’t you have a mansion overlooking the Pacific?” Sam shot back.

“Eh,” Tony said with a shrug, “sometimes I miss the cold.”

“We got plenty o’ that. You should come back in January.”

“I plan to,” Tony said as he nodded down at the cup of coffee Sam had slid across the table to him. “I hear the fall foliage is worth coming for too.”

Sam smiled. It sounded like Tony fully intended to trek out to Maine more often, which was exactly what Sam and the rest of the gang had been banking on. “It is,” he said. “And the Chowder Cook-off, and the toboggan championships. The lobster boat race at the end of summer’s always a good time too. Not that Freedom can really keep up anymore with her engine what it is, but…”

“Aaaaactually,” Tony interjected, a smile spreading over his face, “I might have just the thing for that…”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

Tony nodded and rubbed at his goatee thoughtfully. “You’ll find a crate with your name on it down at the dock. Well my name is on it, technically, but it’s for you guys.”

“Tony. Serious?” If Tony had actually done what he was implying - had gotten them a new engine for Freedom - well, that would certainly be a game changer for them. Not just in the lobster boat race, of course, but in day-to-day sailing. Freedom was a good boat, but she was getting up there in years, and though they’d never gotten stuck out at sea so far, Sam really didn’t want to experience that.

Tony nodded.

“Alright,” Sam conceded, “but if Bucky asks you to marry him when he finds out, you should know that I’ve got dibs.”

Tony laughed and spread his hands innocently. “No worries on that front, Wilson. I’ve got my eye firmly on the other co-captain.”

“Good. Speaking of which, we’ve got a breakfast date. Come on, I’m starving.”

**

The waitress was in the process of dropping off a table full of food when Steve and Bucky walked into Nan’s Diner. They’d beat Sam and Tony, but not Clint and Natasha.

“You didn’t tell me it was family breakfast,” Steve told Bucky.

“Is there any other kind?” Bucky shrugged.

“We went ahead and ordered,” Clint said. “Figured if Nan’s pancakes can’t convince him to stay there’s really no hope.”

Natasha elbowed Clint for that one and Steve laughed.

“It’s fine, Nat. The pancakes can’t hurt. Even if I don’t really think it’s a question of him staying.”

“Then it’s a question of you going?” Natasha asked.

Steve made a helpless sort of gesture. “This is where I get stuck. There’s no--”

“Well look what the tide washed in!” Clint cut him off, as the door behind them opened.

Tony gave them a small wave, but he only had eyes for Steve. Steve felt his breath catch at the sight of Tony walking through the door, so he wasn’t any better off. They each smiled, and Steve felt dazed with relief that Tony hadn’t gone away yet. Even if they were both hopelessly fucked.

Sam and Tony took seats, Sam by Bucky and Tony to Steve’s right. Without even thinking, Steve’s hand slid to Tony’s knee and he squeezed it.

“Who needs syrup when we’ve got these two saps acting all sweet on each other?” Bucky asked.

“That's rich,” Steve said, “coming from a guy I caught leafing through Modern Bride magazine.”

Bucky peeled the wrapper off a straw, wadded it up and tossed it at Steve. “It has nice ideas for place settings.”

“Wait,” Tony interjected, pointing first at Bucky and then at Sam, “so when you said you had dibs, you actually meant...?”

There was an undeniable fondness and warmth in Sam’s smile as he looked at Bucky before turning to Tony. “Yeah, I meant.”

“Shit,” Tony guffawed, “two months go by and this is what I miss?”

“‘S what you get for not coming out sooner,” Bucky shot back with a wink in Steve’s direction.

“Anything else I missed?” Tony asked somewhat tentatively. “Anyone else have a change in their relationship status?”

“Nah,” Natasha assured with a smirk, “Steve’s still painfully single and Clint, well, the phrase “forever alone” comes to mind.”

Clint threw a sugar packet in her direction. It sailed well past her, but anyone who’d ever seen Clint play darts knew that was exactly where he’d meant it to go. Because anyone who’d ever met Natasha knew one did not throw sugar packets _at_ her.

“I dunno,” Clint added. “About the relationship status stuff, I mean.”

Natasha’s smirk tightened. Clint stuck out his tongue at her. Sam and Bucky smiled in unison. The conversation moved on to other topics though, so it wasn’t until they were finished and pushing empty plates toward the center of the table that the topic of relationships re-emerged. 

“We’ve been seeing a lot of Rhodes, lately,” Sam mused. “What’s up with that, Nat? Thought he was going to be a one-and-done.”

“He’s a we’ll-see,” Natasha said.

“I didn’t realize he’d been back that often,” Tony mused. 

“He stops by when he’s in New York,” Natasha supplied. “Most of the time in a Stark helicopter,” she added.

“That sneaky bastard,” Tony complained, though Steve heard no sting behind the words. If anything, Tony sounded relieved.

“Yeah, well-- you want something bad enough you make it work,” Bucky said firmly.

“You wanna be any less subtle?” Steve sighed.

“Sure,” Bucky said. “Just as soon as you two get your act together I’ll back right off.”

Steve groaned. Tony looked thoughtful as he reached for his wallet. He laid a fifty on the table.

“Breakfast’s on me,” he declared. “Walk with me, Cap?”

Steve nodded and felt his chest tighten. Whether it was from nerves or anticipation he wasn’t sure. They got out the door and twenty yards down the street before Tony slipped his hand into Steve’s. It shot a jolt of pleasant tingles all the way up Steve’s arm.

“I know what I want,” Tony said quietly. “And I guess-- it’d be good to know if you wanted the same thing before I make an idiot of myself telling you how I think this might work.”

That took Steve by surprise, even if maybe it shouldn’t have. Bucky’d said about as much out on the dock. That he didn’t have to figure this out himself. That Tony could be counted on for good ideas.

“I want us to be together,” Steve managed to get out. “These past coupla months... if I haven’t been thinking about you I’ve been sitting around trying really hard not to think about you. Which I guess means I’ve done nothing but think about you. Us. Sorry. I’m not good at this.”

“Stark Industries has a giant office tower in New York,” Tony blurted. “Right smack-dab in the middle of the city. Our Board meetings are all there.”

Steve wasn’t sure where Tony was going with that, but he nodded. He’d actually never even thought of that, and he was a bit surprised at himself for it. Especially considering how much he’d been thinking of Tony lately.

“HQ is in Malibu, but only for historical reasons, really. Dad set it up there and it just kinda stayed that way.” Tony was babbling, but Steve let him go on.

“I mean, I could change that. Would make more sense to have it in New York anyway. I could renovate the tower, put in new offices, build myself a nice new workshop…”

“That sounds great, Tony.” He nodded as he said it, his gaze fixed on the pavement in front of his feet.

***

Steve wasn’t listening. Okay, he was hearing what Tony was saying, but he wasn’t _getting_ it, Tony concluded. He reached out for Steve’s wrist and pulled both of them to a stop.

“I have helicopters, and a pilot’s license. I could do like Rhodey, pop up here whenever.”

Steve frowned. “I’m not like Natasha. That “let’s see what happens, our relationship doesn’t need definition” thing, that’s not me, Tony.”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “No, I get that, Cap. That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying, I could come up here, like all the time. We could make this work. Us. You and me. A relationship.”

Steve finally caught Tony’s gaze, a happy glint in his eye. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about moving back to New York for a while now anyway.”

Tony saw Steve’s expression shutter, felt Steve’s hand go limp in his.

“I can’t move back to New York, Tony. I’ve got-- there’s the boat, I can’t just leave Buck and Sam, and the air...”

“Hey,” Tony cut him off, pulling him an inch closer again. “I’m not expecting you to. I figured you’d be here and I’d be in New York and we could see each other, you know, in the not-lobster season. What is that, winter? The Tower’s got a state-of-the-art air filtration system, by the way. Designed by yours truly, of course. Air’s not quite as fresh as up here, but the best in the City for sure. So when you come to visit, we can just hole ourselves up in the Tower the entire time and, you know…” Tony winked. “Play backgammon. Sing sea shanties. Spin yarns. And I can come up here whenever - I’m the boss, after all. Well, okay, actually Pepper’s the boss, but… details. I can get away with it, Pepper loves me. Or at least she tolerates me. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.”

Steve was smiling again, so Tony’s monologue had paid off.

“Probably leaning more in the tolerance zone,” Steve laughed.

Tony huffed and needled Steve in the ribs playfully. “Come on, Cap. I still gotta give Barnes his presents.”

***

Clint had never seen Steve so happy. Not that he was ever a drag or anything, but Bucky and Sam had always seemed so joyfully content... so playfully cheerful. And Steve wasn’t like that. Or he hadn’t been. 

But since Stark had shown up again, playing Romeo and Santa Claus simultaneously, Steve had changed.

Clint was pretty sure he hadn’t caught Steve without a smile on his face even once in the last ten days. And the songs. God, the singing. Late one night Clint had snuck back to the Clam after closing and removed Chicago’s _You’re the Inspiration_ from the jukebox. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Sea ditties were one thing. Lame-ass love ballads from the 80s were totally another.

Apart from Steve’s appalling musical taste though, life in every direction had changed for the better in their tiny fishing town. Tony’d stuck around for a couple of days to help switch out the engine and in the time had managed to make friends with every single seaman (hee hee, Clint never tired of that one) on the dock. Folks gathered around to listen to him talk, not for his celebrity but for his vision. And Steve was right there next to him, proud as could be.

Between the new arm and the new phone, Bucky’s lot in life seemed pretty damn improved too. As was his aim at darts, which Clint guessed might be the only other downside to Stark’s involvement in their lives.

And then there was Nat.

People always assumed he carried a flame for her, but that wasn’t true. Not in the way they thought. He loved her, yes. As a friend. And he knew more about her past than anyone. Knew exactly how much she deserved and even maybe a little bit needed a man like Rhodey. Who had heard the good news about Tony and Steve and flown up as soon as he could.

It was impossible not to feel the lift in Nat’s mood. Or notice the bounce in her step. The smile (not sunny like Steve’s, but warm and pleased just the same) that appeared out of nowhere for no reason at all.

Yeah, things were good. And that night things were no doubt going to get better because Tony was returning, this time with Pepper and Rhodey. Bucky and Sam had invited everyone to the houses for steaks and beer to acknowledge their engagement officially. Clint had suspicions though.

He packed more bottles of beer into his beat-up blue cooler, and even pulled down two bottles of champagne to bring along to the party.

Come hell or high water, tonight they were going to celebrate.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, this is the last chapter. Well, there will be an epilogue, which will be posted next week.
> 
> Millions of thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos - your encouragement makes our hearts sing (and drove us to keep going!). You guys are awesome!

Natasha leaned back against the wall of Freedom’s cabin and smiled to herself. The smile was mostly on the inside, but she let some of it shine through. They’d pulled it off, after all, and that deserved a smile.

Sam and Bucky stood on the bow of the boat, looking out over the water and grinning like big dumb idiots. The rest of the group hadn’t seen them yet, the cabin blocking them from sight.

“We going fishing?” Jim asked, leaning in to brush a stray hair off Natasha’s neck. “I didn’t dress for fishing.”

Natasha followed the line of his hand with her eyes until she met his gaze, then cocked a faux-innocent grin. “You’ll see.”

She pushed off the wall and made her way past Steve, who was untying the ropes and getting the boat ready to leave the dock, and Tony, who was watching Steve work like a hungry lion watches a gazelle, and over to where Clint was chatting with Bucky’s uncle Andy.

“Good to see you again, Andrew,” she greeted.

“Sure is, Red. Been too long.” He pulled her into a warm hug, which she returned happily. Andy Barnes was the _only_ person who could call her Red and live to tell the tale. 

“You gonna tell me why we’re here? These numbskulls aren’t plannin’ on renaming my boat _again_ , are they?”

Natasha shook her head. “Not this time. Though you really didn’t expect them to keep it as _Buxom Broad_ , did you?”

Andy let out a hearty laugh, the gap where his tooth had been knocked out showing through. That gap was the result of an epic bar brawl - Natasha had put an end to it, of course. It was years ago, when Natasha had first started working at the Clam and Andy had still been spry enough to get into bar fights, but Pauly Nelson and his entire extended family still didn’t talk to her. Not that she minded; they were idiots anyway. It was for the best that there wouldn’t be any more little Pauly Nelsons running around town.

“Guess they’re more into looking for freedom than broads, these three, eh?” Andy said with a wink.

“Careful, Andy, Sam wouldn’t like you implying he listens to Hasselhoff,” Clint pointed out as he pressed a glass of champagne into Andy and Natasha’s hands.

Natasha shot him a questioning look - she hadn’t told anyone their plans. Clint winked knowingly.

Shit, she was getting careless. Then again, Clint knew her better than anyone in the world, so it stood to reason that Clint would pick up on it when she was up to something.

The boat’s engine rumbled with life - considerably more quietly now than before Tony had replaced it - and Steve called out “All aboard!” before pushing the throttle forward.

The boat’s passengers were silent as Freedom made her way out of the harbor, some craning their necks to try and see why Sam and Bucky weren’t joining them.

It wasn’t until they had reached open water that Steve cut the engine, lowered the anchor and turned to face the crowd on the cramped deck.

“Thanks for coming out today,” he started. “I know we told you all we are here to inaugurate or rather unveil the StarkMotor 5747, which we are, thanks Tony,” he said with a wink in Tony’s direction before continuing. “But we’re also here to celebrate. Not just a breakthrough in environmentally friendly maritime technology, which is incredible and well worth celebrating in its own right, but also to mark that most special aspiration, something each of us strives for, except maybe Clint - love. More specifically, we’re here to celebrate two people finding love in one another.” Steve’s gaze flew to Tony but quickly moved to the side of the boat, where Sam and Bucky were coming around the cabin from the bow. “We’re here to celebrate the engagement of my two dearest friends, Sam and Bucky.”

“Thanks Steve,” Bucky said as they reached him. “Such profound words. Moving. Look, I almost welled up.” He said it with that dry tone they’d all come accustomed to from him, but Natasha knew there was truth in his words.

“It’s true,” Sam took over, “we are engaged. We’re getting married.” 

A cheer came from the crowd, with Clint wolf-whistling, but it was silenced quickly when Bucky spoke again.

“No, seriously. We’re getting married. Like, now.”

Silence on the _Freedom_.

“Surprise,” Bucky added.

That was Natasha’s cue. She made her way through through the attendees until she reached the happy couple, taking her place between them. She took each of their right hands, tying them loosely together with a length of ship rope.

“Friends, we are here today to share with Sam and Buc- ehem, _James_ , who have made the decision to live out the rest of their days fishing side by side,” Natasha started. 

It wasn’t a traditional ceremony, obviously, but Natasha hit all the usual highlights and she kept it brief. That’s what Sam and Bucky’d requested and she was good with that.

When it came time for the rings, there were chuckles as Sam took a few steps over to fish them out of where they’d been secreted away in an old tacklebox. And there was more laughter when Natasha concluded with “You may now kiss your husband,” and both men enthusiastically complied.

“Get a room!” Steve called.

“We’ve got a boat,” Bucky called back. “Everybody shut your eyes for a coupla minutes, will ya? We’ve got some deflowering to do.” 

*

“I can’t believe they didn’t tell me,” Steve confided to Tony, once they were back on land and walking as a group toward The Clam for the reception.

“Are you upset?” Tony asked.

Steve wrapped his arm low around Tony’s back and gave him a playful yank closer.

“Not at all,” Steve admitted. “I always wondered whose best man I’d be. Buck’s I guess, would have made more sense, but Sam’s like family. This was better.” Steve’s eyes flicked to his two best friends, who were leading the crowd, and his smile grew. “This was exactly right.”

“They going on a honeymoon?” Tony asked. “Because if they’re not, you should bunk over with me in New York. Give them some privacy here. And if they are, I could stay here for a few. If you’d have me.”

“I’ve got as much clue as you do,” Steve pointed out. “But-- either way, I don’t think I’d turn down a trip to New York. You’ve seen mine. It only seems fair I see yours.”

Of course he meant Tony’s apartment, but he emphasized all the right words to make it sound as filthy as possible and Tony looked predictably delighted.

“Oh, I’ll show you mine all right,” Tony said.

“Ugh-- _get. a. room._ ” Clint teased from directly behind them.

Which only made Tony grab Steve’s ass and squeeze and encouraged Clint to give them both a shove. All in all, the wedding party march to The Clam was exactly what was to be expected.

The party continued much the same - plenty of innuendo, Clint having far too much fun telling various pairs to get a room, lots of laughs and even more happy smiles. It was late in the evening, and everyone was at least a few sheets to the wind, when Tony sauntered up to Natasha.

“Riddle me this one, cuz I haven’t figured it out yet. How’d a nice girl like you come to be officiating a wedding? Cuz they don’t let just anyone do it ‘round these parts, if you want it to be official. Which I assume these two do.” He nodded over to Sam and Bucky, who were making out once again.

“I didn’t always work at the Clam, you know. Was a time I could give the DAs a run for their money.”

“You were an attorney?”

“No need to look so surprised, Stark. You of all people should know brains and beauty aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“So you left the Bar to work in a bar?” Tony asked with a cocky grin, which Natasha countered with her favorite deathglare.

“Still in the Bar, just not practicing law anymore.” She shrugged and held Tony’s gaze. “Sometimes you gotta say ‘forget the money’ and do what makes you happy. Follow your heart. You should try it sometime, Tony Stark.”

That certainly shut him up - she could practically see the wheels turning in Tony’s head. She smiled to herself and left him floundering. Mission accomplished.

***

Follow your heart. The words kept repeating in Tony’s head for the rest of the night, through the rest of the drinks, through seeing off the grooms, and then through an incredible night home alone with Steve. It wasn’t that he’d been distracted-- his brain was more than used to carrying around a few dozen thoughts at once. But Natasha’s words had settled in comfortably and they would not let go.

Follow your heart. Tony woke up thinking it. The more he turned it over, the less he was sure what that would look like. He knew where they were (happy, in love, wanting to be together) and he knew where he wanted it to go (married, living together, happily ever after) but the part he was missing was how they got from here to there. 

It wasn’t about the money. Natasha’d said to ‘forget the money’ but that was a separate issue. Tony had enough money to last him a lifetime. He would choose Steve over money without a second thought. But _other_ people depended on Tony for their money. And that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly. So whatever they decided-- however they made this work (and Tony was determined it was going to work)-- following his heart had to not dick anyone over.

That was important.

“You’re awake early,” Steve whispered from beside him.

Tony hadn’t realized Steve was awake. Tony gave him a sleepy smile and wiggled a little closer to Steve’s warmth.

“Didn’t want to miss any time with you,” Tony said.

“This from the man who says 6 AM is an abomination,” Steve teased. “Try again. What’s got you up? Really?”

Tony considered his next words. “Natasha told me to follow my heart. I’m trying to figure out what that looks like. And how not to be an asshole in the process”

Steve’s smile glowed in the dim light. “I love listening to your thoughts,” Steve said. 

“M’not very eloquent in the morning,” Tony pointed out.

“I’m not that into eloquent,” Steve said. “I prefer honest.”

“Honestly?” Tony said. “I want to marry you. I want... this. Every morning. You. Me. Together. And you _could_ spend the winters in New York and I _could_ be here as often as I could, but that’s not what my heart wants. My heart wants you. Always. Every day.”

It took Steve nearly half a minute to speak. “And you say you aren’t eloquent,” he chuckled quietly. “God, Tony, I want that, too. Exactly that. Every day.”

“I could--” Tony started.

“I’ll talk to--” Steve said at the exact same time.

And then they both laughed.

“I think,” Steve said, holding up a hand to keep Tony hushed for a moment, “we should talk to Pepper.”

Tony paused, cocked his head slightly and then nodded. “I think you’re a genius.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Babe, have you seen my-”

“Your red tie? Yeah, it’s hanging over the dresser.”

“How did you-”

“Know you were looking for the red tie?” Steve asked with a knowing smile.

“Yeah.”

“Tony, you call it your ‘Board Meeting Ass-Kicking Tie’, and you’re heading to a Board Meeting. Of course you’re looking for that tie.”

Tony crossed the room between them, wrapped a hand around the back of Steve’s head and dragged him down for a bordering-on-filthy kiss. 

“You know me too well,” he said dryly when he finally pulled away. “Clearly I need to become more predictable again.”

“No you don’t,” Steve said fondly as he mussed up Tony’s hair, which Tony had just spent a good twenty minutes carefully taming. “I like it this way.”

Tony smiled as he folded the tie and placed it in his suitcase before closing it. “Whatever you say, Sappy McSapperson. I gotta go,” he added wistfully.

“I know,” Steve replied, equally wistfully, as he pulled Tony back in to a tight embrace.

“This sucks,” Tony mumbled into the crook of Steve’s neck. “I hate it.”

“I know,” Steve replied, and pressed a kiss onto the top of Tony’s head. 

Thankfully they didn’t have to be apart much anymore since Tony had opened a satellite Stark Industries office in town. That meant Tony was in Maine during the summers while Steve was “lobstering” (Tony’s term), and in the winter they headed to New York. It was good, it worked. Three months in the winter weren’t too rough on Steve’s lungs or psyche, plus it gave him a chance to meet with galleries and pursue his art. And Maine wasn’t too far from New York for Tony to telecommute most of the time, and Steve could usually tag along when Tony had to go in person. It was only at times like this, when Board meetings coincided with the peak of lobster season, that they had to be away from one another. It would only be for three days, but it still felt like an eternity.

Tony kissed Steve’s jaw lightly. “I love you.”

“I know.”

There was a sharp jab in Steve’s ribs and Tony pulled out of the embrace enough to glare at Steve pseudo-menacingly. “Don’t you Han Solo me, Rogers. You know that turns me on too much to be able to leave.”

Steve chuckled. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, that's that! Thank you SOOOOO much to everyone who joined us on this wild and lobster-filled ride - it was your delightful comments and delicious kudos that kept us going. Without you, this would probably have been a much shorter story. ::hugs everyone::
> 
> We are also orbingarrow and imafriendlydalek on tumblr - come say hi!
> 
> No lobsters were harmed in the making of this story.


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